#please don't make fun of my follower count | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sleepyhoon · 7 months ago

Text

✰ pairing. — emo!hs x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayal (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!hs, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni. very cliche shit. reader doesn’t know much abt sex tbh.

✰ synopsis. — Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of, "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ a/n. revamping this from my bts acc with heeseung this time bc im absolutely obsessed with this couple and need them to exist in every possible universe :P revamping part 2 as we speak and ill post in a few days hehe

✰ perm taglist. @intromortal @aanniikkaa @meetletsinmontauk @lovelyyf @right-person-wrong-time

———

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung smut #enhypen imagine #heeseung imagine #lee heeseung smut #enhypen scenario #heeseung scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop scencario #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader

3K notes · View notes

sevikaswifegurl · 27 days ago

Text

RED FLAG!

Synopsis: What happens when he says that one of his habits is a red flag?

Word count: 2.389

Characters: Carlos Sainz, Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Kimi Antonelli and Lance Strol.

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors and promise that I will improve the templates

Inspiration: @tsunodaradio please don't curse at me, I swear I looked at your post and thought: "I have to do one like this, I need to" and I love your account, so I was inspired by it, I'm sorry if you feel "invaded" or something like that, if you feel that way let me know and I'll delete the post!

CARLOS S. (CS55)🚩 ⸻ INSTANT TEXT REPLIES

Carlos realizes something's changed when you stop replying so quickly. It’s not a huge absence — not hours, not days. Just long enough for him to notice that now, your messages sit there. Waiting.

Before, it was automatic. He’d barely hit “send” and your reply was already coming in. Sometimes you both typed at the same time, your messages overlapping. It was lighthearted, fun. He laughed, and you used to say you just wanted to make sure he never felt alone.

But after that stupid conversation — just a random night, when he made a thoughtless joke about replying too fast being a red flag — it all stopped. You smiled, but it wasn’t the same. The next morning, you took over twenty minutes to reply to a “good morning.” That had never happened before.

By the third time he notices it, he can’t pretend anymore.

You’re sitting on his bed, rubbing lotion into your hands, lost in your own routine. Carlos is leaning against the doorframe, watching you. And he says it — no warning:

“You stopped replying fast because of me, didn’t you?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, not quite following.

“You said it was a red flag.”

“I was joking.” He folds his arms, stepping closer. “But I think I hurt you.”

You take a deep breath and lower your gaze.

“You laughed at one of the only things I did without thinking. Replying to you quickly… it was never about anxiety. I just liked talking to you.”

Carlos sits beside you. Your shoulders brush.

“I didn’t want you to change that because of me.”

“I know.” You smile, just a little.

“But I thought maybe you didn’t like it as much as I thought you did.”

He takes your hand. Squeezes it gently.

“I loved it. Still do. I stare at my phone like an idiot, waiting for that ‘hey’ two seconds after mine.”

You laugh under your breath. Rest your head on his shoulder.

“Then don’t complain when I go back to being way too fast.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, type a reply without even looking. Carlos smiles.

You’re back.

OSCAR P. (OP81)🚩 ⸻ TAKING A GYM MIRROR SELFIE

Oscar never thought something as simple as a gym mirror selfie could mean so much. It was more than just a photo — it was a fragment of your day, a stolen moment between sweat and effort that he could keep and revisit whenever the distance started to weigh heavy.

He loved those pictures. Your hair tied up in any way, sometimes damp, sometimes stuck to your forehead with sweat. The soft gym lighting glowing against the foggy mirror. That crooked little smile you’d give the camera, like you were saying, “I’m here, I’m still going.”

Every photo you sent was like a secret note, a quiet reminder that even far apart, you were connected. He’d check his phone with this ridiculous anticipation, waiting for that one notification that could brighten up the middle of a long day.

Sometimes it was a classic selfie — sports bra on, elbow on your waist. Other times, a short clip of your workout, muffled music in the background, your focused eyes as you pushed through the final rep. The caption could be anything — “almost died,” “PR on leg press,” “barely surviving” — but to him, every word was a precious detail of your routine, your effort, your strength.

And then, one day, the photos just... stopped.

At first, he thought it was just a break. Maybe you were tired, or too focused on training to think about documenting every moment. But what started as a pause turned into silence. The silence became longing, and longing turned into this quiet, aching emptiness he didn’t quite know how to fix.

He missed those images the way he missed your scent when you were apart too long, the way he missed your touch after a bad day. He missed opening his phone and seeing your flushed face, that tired but proud look in your eyes, that visual proof that you were out there, pushing through, winning.

One night, after another full day, he gave in. Picked up his phone, hesitated just for a second, and typed:

“I miss your gym selfies.”

On the other end, you laughed — light, surprised.

“Really? I thought you said that was a red flag.”

He shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him.

“Red flag? Never. I love them. They're my favorite part of the day.”

You went quiet for a second, then your voice came through soft and careful:

“Then why did you say it was?”

Oscar sighed, a little embarrassed.

“I didn’t want to sound weird. I thought it might annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me” you said, and he could practically hear the smile on your lips.

“Alright. I’ll send you a bunch of selfies. Every time.”

The phone buzzed a minute later.

There you were — hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed, the gym mirror foggy behind you, a tired but genuine smile lighting up the frame.

Oscar smiled to himself on the couch, holding his phone like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

“Best thing that ever happened to my timeline” he replied, already counting down the minutes until the next one.

From that day on, the gym mirror selfies became a ritual. More than just photos, they were pieces of both your days — invisible threads that held you close through distance and time. Every picture a silent promise: that no matter where you were, you’d find each other — even if just through a screen and a slightly blurry selfie.

And deep down, Oscar knew those photos — so simple, so you — were more than just images. They were the way you stayed close, remembered, loved.

LANDO N. (LN4)🚩 ⸻ LIKING EVERY PHOTO ON HIS SOCIAL MEDIA FEED

You never really thought about it. Liking Lando’s posts was one of those small, automatic things — a reflex. He posted a gym mirror selfie, you liked it. A random selfie in his stories with a ridiculous filter, you liked it. A photo of the car, the track, a random sunset: like. Always.

It wasn’t flattery. It was just... you being there. Present. Saying everything without saying anything.

At first, he thought it was funny. He used to send you screenshots of the notifications, saying “First like as always,” or “Can’t get a second of peace with you online.” It was a joke. Affection disguised as teasing.

Until the video.

You were lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your feed, when you saw the title: “F1 Drivers Decide Their Personality Red Flags!” You clicked for entertainment, nothing more — until Lando showed up on screen, cap on, with that look like he was always on the edge of laughing.

“Red flag?” he repeated, thinking. “If you like every photo on my feed… I’ll block you.”

Your stomach twisted. Sure, he laughed after the line. But it was that weird kind of laugh — the one that comes a little late, with a half-look. And it stuck in your mind.

The next post, you hesitated. Scrolled past without hitting the heart. And then you kept doing it. One, two, five posts — no likes from you. Nothing on his stories either. No comments.

Two days later, you were both on the couch, sharing a pizza and watching some random movie neither of you were really paying attention to. He was scrolling through his phone while you queued up the next episode.

“You stopped,” he said, out of nowhere.

You looked over. “What?”

“Liking my photos.” His eyes stayed on the screen, but his voice was more serious than usual.

“You said you’d block me,” you shrugged.

He finally turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “You thought I meant that?”

“It sounded like you did.”

Lando sighed and leaned back against the couch, dropping the phone onto his lap. “It was a joke. I said it smiling.”

“You smiled two seconds after saying it. That’s not the same thing.”

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you, like he was deciding whether the argument was worth it. Then, softer:

“I liked it. Seeing you there. Liking everything. It made me feel like you were... with me. Even when you weren’t.”

Your chest tightened. You dropped your gaze for a second, until he reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

“If you want to like everything, go ahead,” he said, with a half-smile now. “Just don’t like stuff that’s too old or I’ll know you’re stalking me.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “As if you don’t do worse.”

“I’m discreet.”

“You liked a 2016 photo of mine at three in the morning.”

“I was conducting historical research.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone. And there, curled up next to him on the couch while he laughed beside you, you opened his profile and liked everything again. One by one.

Even the dumb ones.

Especially the dumb ones.

KIMI A. (KA12) 🚩 ⸻ NOT BEING TAGGED IN A GROUP PHOTO

The photo was taken right after the movies, after a whole Saturday wandering around the mall with the group. You hadn’t thought much about it: just lifted your phone, squeezed everyone into a tight frame, and hit the button before anyone blinked.

The result? Three spontaneous smiles, Giulie’s funny pout, and Kimi in the background, half-hidden behind you, with an expression too neutral for someone who had laughed so much half an hour before.

You posted it as soon as you got home. A simple caption, basic emojis. Tagged those who had replied to your stories on the way back. And went to sleep.

The next day, his notification wakes you up.

Kimi Antonelli commented on your post: “Nice photo. Too bad not everyone was there, huh?”

You don’t get it at first. Only later, reviewing the post, you notice the absence.

You didn’t tag him.

You open the chat without thinking twice.

“It was unintentional.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Kimi, I swear.”

“You even tagged Alessandro, who barely appears.”

You laugh despite the mini panic. Because yes, Alessandro only shows a shoulder and an eyebrow — and yet he got tagged. Kimi, fully there in the background, didn’t.

“Want me to fix it?”

It takes a while. Like three minutes.

“Too late now. Delete it. It looks ugly.”

You drop your phone on the bed. He never says things directly. But you know this tone. Kimi can drive a kart at two hundred an hour, but he feels invisible in a group photo.

In the afternoon, he shows up in front of your house like nothing happened. Old sweatshirt, messy hair, phone in his pocket. But when you open the gate, he just says:

“You forgot me.”

You cross your arms. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “But still.”

You stare at each other for a long second.

Then you pull out your phone. “Smile.”

“For what?”

“For a new photo.”

“Just me?”

“No,” you answer, walking over and tugging his sleeve. “Ours.”

He hesitates but smiles — that quiet kind you’re the only one who recognizes. You take the selfie, the two of you in front of your house, with no one else left to forget to tag.

You post it right after, no filter, no caption.

And tag only him.

LANCE S. (LS18) 🚩 ⸻ TAKING A PICTURE OF THE MEAL BEFORE LETTING PEOPLE EAT

Lance realizes it the worst way possible: when it’s already gone.

You’re at a restaurant in Barcelona, and the dish that arrives is too beautiful to just let pass — one of those you’d normally turn to the side, adjust the napkin, and murmur “just a second” while looking for the best angle.

But this time, you just... eat. As if you couldn’t let it go by.

He watches for a moment longer than he should, his own cutlery still resting at the edge of the plate.

“Aren’t you going to take a picture?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

You chew slowly. Give a small, almost shy smile. “You said it was a red flag.”

His fork slips slightly from his hand. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” You shrug. “But you were serious. At least at the time.”

He doesn’t answer. Just pretends the food is still too hot.

Later, with you asleep on his chest, Lance scrolls through the camera roll on your phone. Pictures of everything: your sneakers pressed against the subway, a crooked plant in Vienna, the reflection of you both in some shop window in Milan. But food... no. The last one is weeks ago — pasta with pesto and a glass of white wine. His hand appears in the corner, holding the plate for you.

He feels a silly tightness in his chest. It was just a photo, he thinks. But it was also your way of caring for things. Your way of marking what was beautiful. Of not letting it go unnoticed.

The next morning, you make pancakes. Serve two plates with cut fruit and a drizzle of honey, all simple, all beautiful your way. When you turn your back, he grabs the phone almost without thinking.

“Hey,” he says. “Hold the plate a little more to the left.”

You freeze. Turn slowly, looking at him.

“You want to take a picture?” you ask, voice low, suspicious.

Lance gives a half smile. “I want to see you do it again.”

You hesitate for a second. Then adjust the plate.

“Like this?” you ask.

“Perfect.”

#oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x reader #kimi antonelli x reader #lance stroll x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

2K notes · View notes

glasvera · 5 months ago

Note

Smut and fluff with marvel rivals iron fist (lin Lie) x fem superhero reader, please and thank you ❤️

I uh... went a lil crazy on this one LOL

我的月亮 (Wǒ de Yuèliàng)

Iron Fist x Fem!Superhero!Reader

Description: What better way to recover after a grueling fight with Chīyóu's demon army than a dip in a hot spring?

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), brief combat, cursing, vaginal sex, standing sex, sex in a hot spring, reader has a moment of self-consciousness, lots of fluff and comfort, super lovey-dovey

A/N: Fun fact about me: I took Mandarin as a second language starting in middle school. I don't remember much of it (though I can ask you if there's a bathroom somewhere or when your birthday is), but it was really fun going back and recognizing things like words or grammar. I was basically the Chinese equivalent of a weeb in my younger years so this was a major throwback LOL

Word Count: 4.7k

Relationships between superheroes was… not something most would recommend. Passionate at best, and tumultuous and unpredictable at worst. You might go for weeks, months, without seeing one another, and it was a death sentence to allow that gnawing worry over the other’s safety to take hold of you.

It’s why you were so eager to be sent on a mission in Yúnnán Shěng. It was Iron Fist’s mission, to be fair, but your ability to fly would help give him the extra edge he needed, so he was quick to request your assistance. You spot him as you soar over the bustling tourist city of Kūnmíng, crouched on top of the spire of a lone temple. It’s quieter here, with the sound of chirping insects and wind ruffling the leaves of bamboo stalks the only things to pierce the relative silence of the night.

“There you are, wǒ de yuèliàng,” he greets you as you come to hover by his side. Your heart flutters and you blush at the nickname he’s given you. My moon.

“You know I will always come when you need me, Iron Fist.” It almost pains you to call him by his hero name, but you knew just as well as any superhero that it was always better to be safe in public even if you seem to be alone.

He smiles gratefully, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know. Doesn’t change how happy it always makes me to see you, though.”

You flash him a brilliant smile in turn. “Perhaps we could take advantage of the scenery once our mission is over?” you suggest, batting your eyelashes at him and giving him pleading eyes.

He snorts a playful laugh at your display before tugging your floating form towards him for a quick kiss. “Let’s see how things go first. I’d hate to get you all excited for a hike only to have to carry you the whole way,” he teases with a cocky grin before brushing his nose against yours affectionately. You stick your tongue out at him in response and blow him a raspberry, which he quickly pulls back to avoid as he wipes the spray of spittle from his face. “Hey! I’m only kidding!” he protests with a jovial laugh.

With your hands on your hips, you cock your head to one side and quirk a brow. “If anyone’s gonna end up being carried, it would be you, you know. I can fly, after all.”

His laughter dies down, and he regards you with the softest hint of concern in his eyes before they flicker down to watch as he wrings his wrists together. “Well, let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that at all, okay?” His gaze meets yours once more, and you can see the worry that crinkles between his brows. “I’d rather not see you get hurt at all.”

Your expression softens, and you place a comforting hand on one of his broad shoulders. “I know, wǒ de lòng.” The gentleness of your voice soothes him, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. My dragon.

“Your pronunciation has gotten better,” he compliments before reaching out and caressing your cheek.

“I had a pretty good teacher,” you respond with a cheeky smile that he’s quick to mirror.

Your tender moment is broken by a monstrous roar in the distance followed by devastating crashes and screams. Both of you snap your heads towards the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was big.

“What did you say we were fighting again!?” you exclaim even as you whip behind him and hook your arms around him, lifting you both into the air. Shockwaves nearly throw you off course as this monster continues its rampage, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You inhale deeply before propelling the two of you like an arrow straight through the wind currents that dare to fight your trajectory.

“Demons,” he responds, his voice straining to be heard over the roaring winds. “But it looks like Chīyóu isn't playing around this time.”

“Does he ever?” you groan.

Closing in on your target, you can really see just how ugly this thing is. Gigantic, vaguely humanoid, with decaying skin stretched taut across its emaciated skeleton, it roars into the air before pummeling its scythe-like arms into the ground below. It doesn't seem to care about the smaller demons that flock beneath it, destroying foe and ally alike.

“How did it get to be so massive!?” you shout in disbelief. You'd been unfortunate enough to see Chīyóu's army in the past, but they usually looked more like the infantry below.

“Don’t know, don't care. At least, not until I pummel this thing into the earth!” he replies confidently. “Take care of the small fry, would you? I've got the big one.”

You know better than to protest. He is the stronger out of both of you, and your airborne agility would give you enough of an edge to dodge any stray swings from the big guy while you take care of your foes.

“Okay. I trust you… but come back safe,” you urge before soaring up high enough to launch him at his target. He climbs up the demon's large frame with ease, running up his torso before laying into him with blow after blow straight to the face. You can’t help but smirk as you hear it cry out in pain even as you propel yourself back down towards your smaller enemies.

“Alright… who wants to go first…?” you taunt as energy crackles in your palms.

-----

Not surprisingly, you're done with your fight long before Iron Fist has finished his. You desperately want to help, but you weren't unscathed, panting heavily as you hover nearby. It had taken more out of you than you'd expected; they were far more coordinated than they should have been. Thankfully, your injuries were limited. You were simply exhausted, forced to use your power beyond your normal limits to keep up with each and every demon that launched and swiped at you.

Iron Fist seemed to be doing fine. It was simply a very tough fight, but it was one he was slowly winning. You felt the energy pulsating off of him as he summoned the blade shards from his fists, and the demon cried out in agony as his punches grew faster, deadlier. It wouldn't be much longer now. Suddenly you hear a loud and sickening crack!, and slowly, stumbling, the demon lets out a final, guttural groan before plummeting to the earth. Iron Fist wears a triumphant grin, and you begin to fly towards him to catch him before he joins the demon's descent.

He lands into you with an “oof!” as you steady him, hugging him tightly with your arms wrapped around his chest. “See? Not a problem at a--!”

But your victory is interrupted by the sudden shockwave caused by the demon's body collapsing to the ground. You're too exhausted to react in time, and it sends both of you hurtling through the air as you let out a startled cry. The force of it knocks you miles away, holding on tight to one another and spinning towards an unknown destination. You begin spiraling towards the ground, trying and failing desperately to stop your momentum, and panic rises in your chest.

“Y/N!? We're gonna crash!”

“I know!” you snap back. “I'm trying!”

You're pretty sure your life is beginning to flash before your eyes as the rocky mountainside gets closer and closer. Frantically, you pour all of your willpower into the energy pooled within you, using whatever you have left and centering it so it coalesces at the soles of your boots. It’s just enough to generate a bit of friction, and finally you find yourself slowing before touching down safely on the ground.

Wide-eyed and shaky, you nearly collapse before Iron Fist catches you and helps you stay upright. Even under his mask you can see the way his brow creases with worry.

“Th-that was… that was close,” you stammer out. “S-sorry.”

Seemingly a little less disoriented, he chuckles. Once he’s sure you can stand on your own, he cradles your face in his hands, and those brown eyes gaze warmly into your own. “Hey, we’re alive. That’s what matters.”

A trembling titter passes through your teeth, and you shut your eyes and lean into his touch. After a long sigh, you nod. In the silence that follows, a soft, distant trickling sound catches your ear, and your eyelids flutter open to find its source. Liè hears it as well, and a knowing smile draws upon his lips.

“So, about that sightseeing you wanted to do…” he begins, and you give him a curious look. He’s up to something, but you have no idea what it could be.

“I don’t think I’m in any state to be sightseeing right now--”

He puts a finger to your lips and you hush immediately, feeling your cheeks warm in response. His hands fall from your face before he suddenly scoops you up into his arms, bringing a startled yelp from you before he begins bounding down the mountain.

“H-hey! What are you--!?”

But as he carries you over the rounded stones and lush foliage towards the base of the mountain, that trickling sound grows louder, and you gasp as the leaves part to reveal a hot spring bathed in the light of the full moon. Even at its edge you can feel the humid warmth of the steam seeping into your weary body.

“Ever bathed in a hot spring before?” he hums, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your body as he holds you.

“No, I can’t say I have,” you respond honestly, feeling a heat born from something other than the nearby steam.

He lowers you to the ground gently before taking a few steps forward with his back facing you. His fingers get to work unwrapping the yellow bandages coiled around his arms, letting them flutter down like ribbons onto the stone beneath you. Next, he unties his mask, discarding it in a similar fashion, and then you hear the clinking of his belts before the thud of leather hits the ground.

“Liè…?” you whisper, not trusting your voice fully as he continues to undress before you. He merely turns his head towards you and smirks, and with a rustling of fabric he stands shirtless before you. Moonlight glistens and illuminates his defined muscles, rippling with every movement he makes, and your breath catches in your throat.

“People don’t typically bathe with their clothes on,” he teases, making it sound like the most obvious explanation in the world for him stripping so sensually in front of you. When you still don’t seem to make any sort of move, he turns to face you. The two of you had never… well, you’ve never even seen him shirtless like this before. You try not to let your gaze linger overlong at his broad chest or travel down too low to see the V of his hip bones disappear beneath his trousers--

The pad of his index finger finds your chin and lifts your head to look at him. “My eyes are up here, yuèliàng,” he chides with a snicker. Though, his own eyes find themselves flickering down to your lips.

“You’re so unfair,” you accuse with a breathy laugh.

“Says the one still fully clothed,” he retorts with a purr as his arm wraps around your waist.

You brace a hand against his bare chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin as your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I didn’t realize it was a race,” you tease. Self-consciousness floods your thoughts at the realization of what was happening, and unwittingly your fingers tense against him. Concern softens his expression, and the hand at your chin caresses your cheek.

“Y/N…?” He smiles tenderly. “Are you nervous?”

Your eyes flicker back up to his. “I’ve just… you and I, we’ve never…” Unable to find the words, your voice trails off, fading into the sounds of the bubbling spring. “What if I’m not…?”

“Not what?” he inquires, searching your eyes for the answer you seem unable to give him. The hand at your waist rubs soothing circles into the small of your back.

It grows more difficult to maintain eye contact, so you find yourself staring instead at where your fingers rest upon his skin. “Not… not good enough? Pretty enough? I don’t know…”

“Wǒ de yuèliàng…” he murmurs softly, shaking his head and embracing you into an almost smothering hug. “Zài wǒ xīnzhōng nǐ shì rúcǐ měilì. Nǐ hěn wánměi.” His breath whispers against your hair as he buries his nose into it. Your Chinese is limited, but you don’t have to understand much of it to know what he’s trying to tell you. Beautiful. Perfect. It wrenches at your heart. You’re misty-eyed when he pulls away, resting his hands on your shoulders. “But if you’re not ready--”

You silence him with your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands slide down your sides and rest at your hips, and strong fingers grip you tightly. When you pull away, he regards you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

“I… I’m ready,” you breathe out. “But… do you mind turning around while I undress?”

Liè chuckles but nods wordlessly, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your forehead. He turns back towards the hot springs, shimmying out of his boots and pants and giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his toned ass before he disappears beneath the spring's waters.

You take a deep breath before divesting yourself of your superhero suit, fumbling a bit with the buckles and zippers. Your hands are trembling with nerves when you hook your thumbs into your panties and drag them down your thighs. If only you could see Liè's face; his skin is flushed, and his eyes are squeezed shut to help him resist the temptation to sneak a peek at you. He's just better at masking his nerves than you are.

Steeling your resolve, you exhale shakily. “Okay, I… you can turn around now.”

The water sloshes with how quickly he moves, and despite the humidity of the hot springs, he grows parched at the sight of you. Your arms and hands drape demurely over your breasts and between your legs, and you look away shyly under the intensity of his stare. The moonlight bathes your skin in its silvery splendor, and the trees behind you seem to almost bend around you and frame you perfectly in their lush foliage.

“Wow…” he breathes quietly, at a loss for any other words. He steps towards you, making his way to shallower waters as his chest and hips reemerge in a cascade of water droplets, seemingly unperturbed by his own nudity. His cheeks turn a deep pink as he drinks you in. “Nǐ hěn wánměi.” You are perfect. He brings his hands up to cradle your face and stare deeply into your eyes. They're warm, wet from the spring, and the feeling is oddly grounding while droplets trickle down your cheeks. Slowly, your arms fall to your sides. You bat your eyelashes at him with the tiniest of smiles.

“You're one to talk,” you tease, your gaze flickering back down as your fingertip traces along his collarbone and follows the contours of his pectoral muscles.

The ego boost brings a cheeky grin to his lips, but he doesn't indulge it further. Instead, he brings your faces closer together and kisses you deeply, hungrily, groaning when his hands begin to wander. They tangle in your hair, wrap tightly around your back, grip at your waist… he's determined to feel every inch of you, and quickly the fire within you urges you to do the same to him. A surprised squeak sounds in your throat when he grabs your ass, kneading the plush of your skin in his palm.

“Liè!” you gasp as his lips press at the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and finally nipping and sucking at the column of your neck. He lifts you by your rear, earning a giggle from you before you wrap your legs around him, and walks you back into the water to envelop you both in its steamy embrace. His arousal rests hard and hot against your stomach, and desire replaces any remaining reservations you had. All you could think about now was him, of his skin on yours, his lips hot and wet on your neck, his broad shoulders beneath your fingertips.

With the water to help support your weight, he holds you against him with one hand as the other trails back over your ribcage, resting beneath your breast before cupping it and squeezing gently. Breathy moans slip from your lips and grow louder as he leans down and takes the stiff peak into his mouth. His tongue flicks up and down over the sensitive bud.

“Yes, oh…”

He hums against your skin, gazing up at your face with blown pupils. Every expression, every melody you sing because of him, is intoxicating.

“Mm… how did I get so lucky?” he muses while pressing tender kisses in the valley of your breasts. “To have such a beautiful, strong woman in my arms, singing me her praises…” He adjusts his hold on you, sliding you down just a bit and bringing you face to face again. The water laps soothingly against your bare skin. Your eyes flutter closed when the backs of his fingers brush gingerly along your cheekbone.

“I hear being the Immortal Iron Fist helps one's chances,” you giggle, and he scoffs in mock offense. Your smile widens and you press your forehead to his. “But being Liè, my dragon, my…” You choke on your words for a moment, but only a moment.

“My love…”

You feel your face heat up at your own words, but they were words long coming. “... that's all it takes. All I've ever wanted.”

“Yuèliàng,” he exhales sharply, the term of endearment a reverent hiss upon his lips. Those same lips crash upon yours once more, and your arms wrap eagerly about his neck. His brow furrows, and between kisses he whispers those sweet words. “Wǒ ài nǐ.”

You grip the black hair at the nape of his neck tightly, but not nearly so tight as the hold this man has over your pounding heart. Your mouth slants over his, kissing him deeper, delving your tongue between the seam of his lips. He meets your efforts eagerly, curving over you as your back arches and your chest presses against him. One hand finds the small of your back to draw you impossibly closer. When he pulls away from your devouring kiss, you're both panting for air.

“Let me make love to you,” he begs breathlessly. His nose nudges yours affectionately and his brow creases. “Please.”

Never in a million years would you say no to that. You kiss him tenderly before nodding softly. “I want you, Liè. All of you.”

He groans and rolls his hips, his evident desire sliding along your heat and drawing a gasp from your lips. You were no virgin, but he was thick, and your mind was long gone with fantasies of how he would feel inside of you. Not that you would have to wait long for those fantasies to become reality, of course; he peppers your face and neck with kisses while he continues to grind against you. His hand reaches down for a handful of your ass, guiding your hips as you join him in the search for that delicious friction. The hot spring water only makes your movements easier, and on more than one occasion he nearly slips right in. When the bulbous head presses up against your clit, you whimper and your thighs tremble, and you can feel yourself growing wetter even without the spring's help.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He holds you still, and you brace your hands on his shoulders while he begins deliberately guiding the head of his cock up and down your slit. Your hot, slickened folds are too inviting to resist, and slowly, torturously and slowly, he sinks the tip into your heat. You steady your breathing and force yourself to relax the tension in your body at the sudden intrusion. His hips rock into yours, finding it hard to breathe himself as he stretches you out inch by inch.

“Liè, oh gods--” you hiss before your jaw goes slack with a moan. He’s sheathed himself in you completely, and you've never felt quite so full. He stills inside you instantly as worry etches his features.

“Are… are you okay?” he stammers out, tenderly cupping your cheek. It’s obviously difficult for him to keep himself from rutting into you like a wild animal, and you feel his cock twitch impatiently while your walls clench around him.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out. “You're just, um… shit… you're so big…”

His concern fades instantly and is replaced with a cocky grin much more becoming of his handsome face. A groan of approval growls in his throat and he’s grinding into you again, the water splashing gently with the movement, angling his cock back and forth with shallow thrusts.

“Is that so…?” he muses coyly. His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I hope that won’t be an issue.”

You keen as every move he makes leaves his cock dragging languidly back and forth against that perfect spot. “N-no, I--”

He interrupts you by taking your lip between his teeth and tugging on it softly. A staggered breath whispers from you.

“Good,” he purrs. He sucks on your bottom lip before darting his tongue out, inviting you to part your lips and let him in. A devouring groan hums and vibrates from him into the kiss. Your tongues dance sensually, feverishly, and he starts thrusting into you with renewed vigor. Shutting your eyes tight, you tangle your fingers in his short black hair, and your high pitched whimpers pour into the kiss.

It's easy to forget the battle you had fought not even an hour ago. It certainly doesn't feel like he was fighting for his life against a demon twenty times his size. His seemingly endless stamina ripples through bulging muscles to help him piston in and out of you. His movements favor precision over speed, deliberately drawing back and making sure you feel every inch before he slams back into you.

You're so lost in pleasure, but when he pulls away and stares into your eyes your breath hitches in your throat. There's so much adoration in those brown eyes, so much love and affection reserved for you and you alone. Your hands draw back to cup his face gingerly while he bounces you up and down.

“Liè…” you breathe softly. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

Half-lidded eyes blink slowly, lovingly at you. “You feel perfect,” he praises.

“Mm…” you moan with a dreamy smile, “More, Liè, please.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Can you hover in the water?”

You blink curiously at him. “I… yes, of course, but--”

“Just do it, trust me,” he states with a coy smirk.

Your hands fall from his face to rest at your sides, and it takes a surprising amount of concentration to summon the energy to fly, even if you're just hovering in place. Whether it's due to exhaustion from the earlier battle or simply that he's fucking you so well… it's hard to say. After a few moments, he feels your weight lifting from his firm hold. His thrusts pause, and he huffs out a laugh when you whine at the loss of stimulation.

“Keep your legs up like that. Hold onto my shoulders if you need to. Otherwise,” he pauses, cocking his head to the side and flashing you a cheeky smile, “...just remember that you asked for this, yuèliàng.”

You barely have time to ponder what he means by that before both of his hands grip you by the waist and his hips slam into yours. A soundless scream leaves your jaw agape as he pours every bit of his strength into his thrusts. Despite the roughness of it, you can feel the way your cunt squeezes him tighter, sucking him in every time his cock drags back out. Skin slaps against skin, and it takes every last bit of concentration and willpower you have to keep yourself aloft. The hot spring's waters splash and spray about with the frantic pace he sets, disturbing the peace of the night with the cacophonous symphony of your lovemaking.

Now that he doesn't have to hold you up himself, one hand rests on your stomach as his thumb seeks out your clit. A shock of pleasure courses through your body that leaves your toes curling. Aided by your slick and the warm water, the digit glides effortlessly in circles, and soon he's timing it perfectly with every deep thrust of his length. You find your voice again even if all you can muster are broken moans.

“F-f-hah-uh-ugh-uck!” you babble, each stammer coinciding with the hammering of his cock deep within you. It chisels away at all sense, leaving you raw and vulnerable but hotter and hotter. It burns and licks as the fires of pleasure spark brighter and more intense. Nails dig into his shoulders to keep you from wobbling mid-air.

“Shit,” he curses, hissing in pleasured pain at the feeling. “Gǎnjué zhēn dì nàme hǎo ma?” Does it really feel that good? His breathy teasing is accompanied by a confident smile even as he grits his teeth with the effort of fucking you.

His tone tells you all you need to know even if you don't recognize all the words. The low, possessive growl in his voice leaves you a whimpering mess, and you feel yourself creeping closer and closer to the precipice.

“Liè, oh, f-fuck--!” you gasp. “Right there, yes!”

An airy chortle hums in his chest between grunts. “Nǐ zhēnměi.” He takes your breast in his palm before tweaking the bud between his fingertips, and he leans in to kiss and suck at your neck. The sensations overwhelm you as your moans and whimpers grow higher and higher in pitch. His movements are messy, more instinctive than deliberate, as he gets closer to his own release.

“Yes, yes, oh, yes--!”

He can’t help himself from biting down at the sensitive spot he’s discovered at the crook of your neck, and it has you seeing stars. You send him into a frenzy with your sweet song, a siren calling him and begging him to ravage you utterly and completely. And gods, does it feel better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your body feels like it’s floating even beyond the literal sense of your powers, cresting higher and higher and--

“Cum for me, yuèliàng.” His voice is right there at your ear, a low, seductive growl, and the cord within you finally snaps.

“Liè!” you scream, your body convulsing in a mind-shattering orgasm. His thrusts falter as he feels you clamp down and flutter around his cock. A broken groan cracks in his throat and he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you relentlessly as you cry and babble out moans from the overstimulation.

“F… Fuck, Y/N, I--shit!” He quickly pulls out of you before taking himself in hand, cursing and exhaling guttural moans as he strokes himself feverishly beneath the water’s surface. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time, drinking in your half-lidded expression. With a final string of huffs and grunts he cums with a cry of your name, emptying himself into the spring. His forehead falls against yours, out of breath, pulling you into his arms as the two of you come down from your high.

You slump back down into the water and allow yourself the comfort of his embrace. He starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, drawing giggles from you that bring a goofy smile to his face. The peace of the night returns, and the only sounds around you are the bubbling of the spring and the soft, chirping chorus of insects and amphibians about. Your heart feels full, warm, and your eyes find his as you gaze at him reverently.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His doe eyes soften before he gives you a deeper, more insistent kiss. “I love you too.”

#iron fist x reader #lin lie x reader #marvel rivals #iron fist #lin lie #marvel rivals x reader #marvel rivals iron fist #marvel rivals lin lie #marvel rivals fanfic #marvel rivals smut #glasvera writes #glasvera indulges in a cheaper town home #writing request

1K notes · View notes

7-wonders · 2 months ago

Text

Hot Doctor Boyfriend

Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

Summary: PTMC's in a tizzy over the admission of one of the city's biggest stars to the ER. Jack realizes that introductions, and explanations, are going to need to be made.

Word count: 2.5k

A note from the author: I'm not a medical professional and thus know nothing about how fast CT scanners can be made available. I also believe that sports injuries are sent to an actual imaging center the next day and not to the ER, but it made for a fun plot so please don't come for me on any of this. Thank you to the 150+ of you who voted that you wanted to see this trope in particular, and to the over 300 of you who voted on the poll in general!

In his personal life, Jack Abbot is not one to put much belief into superstitions. Black cats crossing paths, not opening umbrellas indoors, tossing salt over the shoulder—it’s never made sense to him why these have become rituals that are so ingrained in society. He’s a man of science and logic, and science and logic dictate that superstitions are fanciful and have no influence over events that may or may not happen in one’s life.

In his work life, though? Oh, superstitions are very much to be believed and adhered to. Saying that it’s too quiet while on a shift is a recipe for disaster. Full moons almost always bring out the crazy in everyone. For whatever reason, the hospital defies those carefully-held beliefs in science and logic and becomes something otherworldly. Jack’s certainly not about to ruin the careful balance that an emergency department achieves, and so he fastidiously follows these superstitions the moment that he clocks in.

He’s in late tonight, having used a couple of hours of PTO to attend a niece’s choir concert. The moment that he hits the ER floor, though, he’s wondering if he should have taken the whole night off instead. People are acting weird tonight. Huddling around in loose groups, giggling and talking, spreading information amongst themselves. They all keep looking a certain direction too, almost like they’re waiting for someone, or something, to appear. Even when he passes, they only bother to look busy for a few seconds before going back to their previous states.

By the time he reaches the ER floor desk, he’s feeling thoroughly rattled.

“Did the moon suddenly go from waxing to full during the duration of my walk from the parking lot to the ER?” Jack asks the assembled staff.

Mary, tonight’s charge nurse, shakes her head and smiles. “Nope. Full moon is still another fourteen days away.”

“Couldn’t tell. Why are they acting like this…all the–the whispering and shit? I hate it when they do that; feels like they’re conspiring against me.”

“We have a VIP in the ER tonight.”

Jack’s brows furrow. “Myrna’s back already?” Though Myrna’s a frequent flyer, coming back a mere two hours after discharge would be a new record for her.

“Nope. An actual VIP.”

He thinks for a couple of seconds, trying to decide who would be important enough to have an entire floor of medical professionals—people who have enough degrees combined to bring a thermometer up to triple digits—acting like nervy teens. “Okay, you’ve hooked me. Who’s disrupting our orderly chaos?”

Mary leans over the desk, eyes bright and a grin playing at her lips. “Sidney Crosby is sitting in North 3 right now.”

“What?”

Hockey is not the most popular sport in America. In fact, out of the four big professional sports leagues in the US, hockey is at the bottom. But one would have to be living under a rock to be in Pittsburgh and not know who Sidney Crosby is. He’s the city’s sweetheart; not only is he one hell of a hockey player, but he’s also a great guy. How many times has Jack seen something on the news about him donating his money or his time to local causes? How many times has he gone semi-viral for playing street hockey with random groups of children?

“Hold on,” he says, hastily grabbing a tablet from the charging docks. Not because he doesn’t believe Mary (he doesn’t make it a point to question any of the nurses, who regularly save his ass), but because he’s wondering what the hell one of the most decorated hockey players of the 21st century did to land in PTMC’s ER. Even as he reads, Mary verbalizes his chart for him.

“He was chasing a puck behind the net during tonight’s game against the Panthers and took a hard check. The training staff pretty quickly diagnosed shoulder dislocation, but they obviously don’t have the right imaging equipment at PPG. He arrived with one of the trainers, and they’re waiting for a doctor now after yours truly took vitals.”

“And you didn’t accost him or anything? I’ve seen those hockey romance novels you read,” Jack smirks.

Across from him, Mary flushes red. “I only fangirled a little bit, thank you very much.”

As his brain begins to catch up with what the commotion in the ER actually means, Jack’s own excitement fades a little. If Sidney Crosby’s here, and if he got injured during a game, then chances are that means—

“Guess we’re doing this now,” he says with a sigh, earning the curious eyes of those around him.

“Doc, you alright?” Shen asks, pausing in his walk from one bay to the next.

“Just fine.” He looks over the interns and residents who aren’t currently on a case, deciding which one won’t lose all professionalism the moment they’re faced with a veritable star. “Santos, you’re with me.”

Santos stares at him, the energy drink she was planning on taking a sip from paused halfway to her lips. The residents are on only their second week of night shift and are still getting used to life on the dark side, including the quirks of their new boss. Shen says he scares them, but that’s ridiculous; they all worked the PittFest mass cas with him just fine!

(Although…maybe that’s why they’re a little wary? The fact that the one and only time they interacted with him was during a pretty traumatic event where he was barking out orders? Oh well, that’s a conversation for his next therapy appointment.)

“Me?” Santos points to herself.

He has to fight himself from rolling his eyes. “Unless there’s somebody else here named Santos?”

“No, no sir.” She loops her stethoscope around her neck again and hurries after Jack, already halfway to North 3.

He pauses just outside of the doors and pretends to check the tablet in his hands, taking a quick moment to prepare himself for the finality of what comes next. When he and Santos enter the room, he goes against his medical instincts and doesn’t immediately greet the patient.

“Y’know, if you missed me that much, you didn’t have to have somebody stage an injury to see me,” he says.

From the chair next to the hospital bed, you smile. “What can I say, handsome? Our schedules haven’t meshed recently, I needed to get your attention somehow.”

The two others in the room are watching the exchange with the intensity and confusion of a novice attending Wimbledon. They’re both trying to figure out dynamics here, wondering what’s led to this moment where one seeming stranger is talking to another like they intimately know each other.

Finally, the hospital’s own VIP speaks. “Wait, is this hot doctor boyfriend?”

Though Jack isn’t facing her, he can hear Santos’s gasp as a surprised, “Boyfriend?” falls from her mouth.

You sputter while trying to remember how words work, and Jack laughs. “That was said to you in confidence, man!” you complain.

Jack steps closer to the bed and holds out his hand. “I guess that’s me. Dr. Jack Abbot.”

Sidney Crosby (the part of Jack that’s watched hockey since he was a little kid sitting in the den with his dad tries not to start freaking out) raises the hand that’s not currently in a sling to shake Jack’s. “Sidney. Call me Sid.”

He’s a little too starstruck to feel comfortable calling him a nickname like Sid, but it’s nice to have a friendly patient every once in a while.

Behind him, Santos’s thumbs surreptitiously tap on her phone, surely letting every resident in this hospital know that Jack Abbot is off the market. Jack rolls his neck, looks at Santos until she realizes she’s been caught and puts her phone in her scrubs pocket, and gets to work as best as he can.

“It’s already in your chart, but I want to hear it from you,” Jack says. “How’d you end up in the sling?”

“Jarry dumped a puck behind the net that couldn’t be iced. I went to chase after it and got checked, but hit the boards wrong. Felt a popping and pain right away, which is never good,” Sidney explains.

“I’m guessing this isn’t your first dislocation?” Jack asks, helping to remove the sling so he can examine the injury.

“Far from it.” Sidney’s scoff is cut off by a pained groan when Jack begins to feel the joint. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt like a bitch.”

“You need some meds?”

“We administered 600 milligrams of ibuprofen at the arena,” you supply. “A little morphine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Santos?” Jack turns to look at the resident.

“On it,” she says, already heading to grab the needed supplies.

“Your staff is diagnosing it as a dislocation, too?” Jack asks you.

“Like Sid said, he reported his pain as immediate and swelling has continued since the incident, which are two of the biggest indicators for dislocation. A preliminary exam at the rink says dislocation as well. We’re confident in that diagnosis but need imaging to confirm,” you report.

Santos, who’s returned with morphine and is working on drawing it up, looks at you. “You’re a doctor, too?”

You shake your head. “Athletic trainer. I work for the Penguins.”

“Nice.” She grins as she injects the morphine through the IV (Jack’s not sure if she’s smiling at your career or getting to do tasks related to her job).

Sidney relaxes almost immediately, the morphine quickly going to work. Jack takes the opportunity to finish his exam, confirming what everybody’s expected. “Your shoulder’s definitely dislocated. I’ll push you to the front of the CT line, and pending results, we’ll hopefully be able to pop it back in within the hour.”

Jack grabs the tablet and puts in the orders, adding, “Yes, it’s THAT Sidney Crosby” in the ‘notes’ section in the hopes that radiology will actually take him seriously.

“I gotta know,” Sidney asks you, “how did you and hot doctor boyfriend meet?”

“You remember when the front office gave us all tickets to the Steelers game in September?” He nods. “I was tailgating with some friends from marketing when a fight broke out in the spot next to ours. Fists started swinging and one almost got me when I turned around to see what was going on. Jack pulled me out of the way just in time.”

“I was a goner the moment you reared around with your fists raised like you thought I was going to fight you,” Jack recalls fondly.

You’re about to respond when your phone buzzes, and you look down. Though you don’t say anything, Sidney seems to already know what you’re looking at and grins.

“Tanger or Geno?” Sidney guesses.

You laugh lightly. “Tanger. Wanting to know if they’ve popped the shoulder back in yet.”

“Didn’t the game just finish?” Santos asks.

“Ten minutes ago, if that. Kris Letang’s an impatient one.”

“Holy shit, that’s so cool,” Santos whispers under her breath from the biohazard disposal receptacle near the sink, a rare crack in the badass persona she tries so hard to maintain at work.

“We win?” Sidney wonders.

“2-1,” you confirm.

Mary knocks before popping her head into the room. “CT’s ready.”

“Santos, go with?” Jack steps towards her and lowers his voice. “Make sure that nobody hassles him.”

She nods and takes one side of the bed, a couple of members of the transport team taking the other. You rise from the chair and move to Sidney’s side, stealing his phone and other personal items so that he doesn’t have to worry about them getting lost (or, god forbid, stolen by some superfan working tonight).

“You’re in good hands, okay?” you reassure. “See you soon, Sid.”

He gives you a halfhearted wave and then is gone. The room, so quickly full of life as doctors and nurses filed in and out to provide care, has gone quiet just as fast.

Just another day in the ER.

Now that it’s silent, Jack gets the joy of focusing his full attention on you for the first time today. To his pleasure, he finds you looking at him already, eyes and smile both soft.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Hi.” It’s breaking so many hospital protocols to give you a kiss, but he can’t resist a quick one. Not when you’re standing there in your team-issued quarter-zip and ice-friendly tennis shoes, looking very professional (Robby’s right—he really is whipped). “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too. How was Reneé’s concert?”

Jack smiles, pleased that you remembered. “Good! She killed her solo.”

“Oh good, I know you said she was nervous…” you trail off, looking over Jack’s shoulder and out the door. “Why are they staring?”

When he turns his head, he sees a small group of residents and interns curiously peering inside to see that Jack Abbot does have a life outside of work. Of course, they all scatter like marbles upon realizing that they’ve been caught. Javadi’s the last one to run, stuck like a deer in headlights until Mohan pulls her along. “I…may have not told anybody except for Robby and a couple of close friends here that I was seeing someone.”

“Jack!” You sound scandalized, but he can tell by the grin you sport that there’s no offense behind it. “We’ve been dating for six months now.”

“I’m not in the business of telling everybody my business. And you’re one to talk! I’m just ‘hot doctor boyfriend’ when you’re at work?” He can’t help but smile as he says it, from both the name and the fact that somebody cares about him enough to call him such a thing.

“Hot doctor boyfriend is fun to say! Adds some mystery to my life. Plus, hockey players are terrible gossips. It gives them something to talk about.”

“Maybe I was trying to do the same. Add some mystery to my life.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that he’s full of shit. “Sure, Mr. Brick Wall.”

“I think I prefer hot doctor boyfriend.” He earns himself a kiss for that. Screw propriety, he thinks as he leans in and steals a couple more precious seconds.

“We should go out there,” you murmur against his lips, “they’re gonna think we’re hiding.”

Jack sighs before pulling away, knowing that you’re right. “Or, and hear me out, we just stay here, away from the interns, and wait for Sidney to get back.”

Your eyes catch somebody else outside. “Aw, but he looks nice!”

Whitaker waves, sandwich in hand. When Jack shoots a stern look through the doorway, he quickly scurries off.

“You’re being too social for my taste,” he complains.

“Blame it on still being in work mode.” He can understand why a person would need to be personable in a stadium with almost 20,000 screaming fans, and he does not envy you at all.

“You and I have very different definitions of work mode.”

“My sweet, anti-social man,” you coo, patting his cheek affectionately before taking his hand and leading him to the door against his better judgment. “C’mon, let’s go say hi to everyone before Sid gets back and we both have to be professionals again.”

#dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #the pitt #the pitt imagine #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot fic

702 notes · View notes

fragranticareviewers · 18 days ago

Note

As someone who doesn't know a thing about perfumes, reading what you have to say about them is so unbelievably cool!

If I may ask something, what would a magical girl use, but not the pink main one, maybe the orange/yellow one?

ive been sitting with this for a little bit rotating it in my head... this will be a long one

so im putting my answers into two different categories:

one is for the Orange Magical Girl Archetype, which is how i was thinking of the first one. in my head, the orange ones are usually sporty, energetic, and have a sun or fire theme going on, while still maintaining a lot of that youthful sparkly fun vibe. (i also personally associate them with citrus, because, well, orange) so i was thinking of that. this will be my first category of answers.

olympea solar by rabanne - yummy! white florals and mandarin orange.

h&m sunray - golden warmth by h&m - straight up smells like summer. sunscreen, coconut, slightly floral?

orange ice cream by colornoise - i have no idea if this one is good or not to be honest. but it looks like it should fit. i trust it. i believe in it.

dr. botica poção da criatividade by o boticário - ok pause. i have never seen this mentioned before by anyone and found it by accident. what is this. this is ridiculously cute. how do i get my hands on it? the bottle is so cute! it has a star for god's sake

sundrunk by imaginary authors - "oh noo it's so linear" "it doesn't smell like a city on fire or bull's blood" i don't care. smells like artificial orange flavoring followed by neroli. yummy

...so this was my first thought.

then i started thinking: what about the actual orange magical girls from things i've watched? what do i associate with them?

and then i realized: WHERE ARE ALL THE ORANGE MAGICAL GIRLS?? i can think of, like, 5 total! all of them have completely different personalities! everyone's always like "ohh toei hates making green magical girls, we're starving, please feed us more green magical girls please" as if there is not currently a CRISIS of MAGICAL GIRLS WHO WEAR ORANGE in their series even greater than this...

with that said: the 5 magical girls i can think of who are primarily orange all have completely different associations for me, so i figured it'd be fun to pick a perfume or two for each of them.

cure soleil from star twinkle precure - i think they technically classify her as yellow so she might not even count. that's stupid. she's orange. being blonde does not change the color of her outfit.

for her, i pick aqua allegoria nettare di sole by guerlain. it has solar notes, which are critical for her IMO, along with beautiful white florals, which i think matches with her association with flowers.

hazuki from ojamajo doremi - ah, i'm struggling with this a bit.. she's very shy, naive, and studious, with an interest in things like violin and ballet. i was hoping i could find something with maybe a light varnish accord, but no luck. instead, i looked for things with an old book/paper smell without being overly dark or old, and i'm stuck between these 2...

gion by fantome - powdery rose tea with honey and books. light and cute.

morning room by solstice scents - you thought i was gonna do a recommendation post without mentioning solstice scents huh? huh?? *beats you up* this is another powdery and light floral, this time mostly based on violet instead of rose. and, of course, there's a paper note in here.

cure sunny from smile precure - i'm realizing that, in my head, she is the prototypical orange magical girl. i may be biased because she's also my favorite. i want to find something that evokes fire without being overly smoky or autumnal.

beach bonfire by alchemic muse - a firey gourmand with a little bit of nice sandalwood and amber, nice!

fire opal (orange 2; natural) by dsh perfumes - planning on getting a sample of this. bitter orange that people are complaining is "too masculine"

sailor venus from sailor moon - oh god. is she orange? anyways, i think i'd associate her with like, makeup accords, like the way lipstick smells. but fun and silly. it'd be cool if i could find a light and fun fragrance with a hot iron accord because she has a chain attack and all that, but no such thing seems to exist

iris crush by jimmy choo - powdery floral lipstick. yay!

nagisa momoe from puella magi madoka magica - is this even a question?

cheesecake by arcana wildcraft.

anyways, to be transparent, a lot of the time i don't answer fandom/character requests because it's always things i've never watched/read/played/etc. before. but mahou shoujo... well i've heard of it

#asks #recommendations

535 notes · View notes

inkedinshadows · 5 months ago

Note

Helloooo hope you’re doing well 💝💗

I was wondering if you can write for azriel ( from the prompt list) 2 and 4? I think it would be such a cute idea, and you would write it so well (love u)

thanks for ur time!! 💝💝

Life's Bright Side

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: I love u too anon, I'm doing well and I hope you are too 🫶🏻 I had so much fun writing this one and it didn't even take me that long bc one thing about me is that I'm a sucker for slice of life 🤭

Prompts: "Baby, I love you, but please go to bed."* + "You're always so cheerful... it's kind of adorable."

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word count: 1.1k

*had to change it to "go to sleep", hope you don't mind <3

Azriel had never understood how you did it.

Your day had been a long one. He hated the Court of Nightmares, but more than that, he loathed seeing you in such a place. His bubbly, chirpy mate didn't belong among those cruel, scheming people.

Yet you never let the occasional visits bother you. While he returned from the Hewn City brooding and in a foul mood, you were the opposite.

He watched as you danced through the room, the dim light catching on the sparkly black dress you were still wearing. You were softly humming a melody to yourself, a simple tune you had picked up yesterday while strolling along the Sidra with him.

A small smile tugged at Azriel’s lips. Even without trying, you always managed to lift his spirits. His shadows were already swaying in time with your song.

He remained silent as he undressed, listening as your humming turned into quiet singing—whispered words he couldn't quite make out, but he was fairly sure you were making them up as you went.

When he looked back up after pulling on his sleeping clothes, your dress had been exchanged for a nightgown and you were perched at the vanity table to remove your makeup. One leg crossed over the other, your foot bounced in time with your tune.

“How do you do that?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

Your eyes met his in the mirror, a small smile forming as you wiped the cotton pad over one eye. “Do what?”

Azriel shrugged, stepping up behind you just as you stood. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re always so cheerful,” he murmured, meeting your gaze in the mirror again. His lips quirked. “It’s kind of adorable.”

You chuckled before turning in his arms. “Life's too short to be grumpy and pessimistic.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you added, “You should try it sometimes, my love.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He leaned down to stop your teasing with another kiss, but you slipped out of his grasp and padded toward the bathroom.

“Baby, you're immortal,” he pointed out, following you to lean against the doorframe while you washed your face. “How is life too short?”

“Well, it's not,” you conceded, turning off the faucet. Azriel waited patiently as you dried your face before you continued. “But maybe tomorrow a vase will fall from a balcony while I'm walking underneath it, hit me in the head, and kill me instantly.”

Azriel raised a brow.

“What?” you said with a smile. “You never know. Just because it's unlikely doesn't mean it's impossible.”

He shook his head, but he couldn't stop the slow smile forming on his face. “I'm beginning to think you're crazy. Not cheerful, just straight-up crazy.”

“And it took you this long to figure that out?” You grinned, patting his arm as you tried to slip past him.

Tried, because Azriel caught you before you could, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him. A sound that was both a laugh and a yelp escaped you as he lifted you without warning.

“Listen,” you tried to defend yourself, though it was hard to speak between fits of laughter. “All I'm saying is that everything has a bright side. We just have to look for it.”

Azriel carried you to the bed, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. Gently, he lowered you onto the mattress and leaned over you.

“Oh yeah?” he mused. “So what's the bright side of a vase falling on your head?”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “It made you laugh,” you said simply. “You picked me up and carried me to bed. And now you're on top of me. It’s my favorite position, I'll remind you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle skittered along your skin. “This is not your favorite position, my love.”

You grinned. “You know me so well.”

With a shake of his head, he shifted off you and lay beside you, pulling the blankets over you both as you reached to turn off the lights.

In the dark, you nestled close to him. Your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you, and you reached down to intertwine your fingers with his. Your thumb traced slow, idle circles over the back of his hand.

“Did it work though?” you whispered into the quiet. “Did I get your mind off the Hewn City?”

Azriel breathed in the delicate scent of your shampoo as he brushed a kiss to your shoulder. “You did. Thank you, my love.”

“I could always give you something else to think about if you need it,” you suggested.

He didn't, actually. But something in your tone—the slight note of amusement, perhaps—made him question what you were up to.

“Is it going to be another one of your ridiculous questions?”

He could picture your smile as you replied, “Maybe. Do you want to hear it?”

Azriel took a deep breath, knowing he would regret it but still curious to find out what you'd come up with this time. “Let's hear it.”

You didn't answer right away. He felt you squirm slightly in his arms and realized you were trying to stifle your giggles. When you finally settled enough to speak, your voice was so pensive that Azriel braced himself.

“If you wake up tomorrow,” you began, “and find out I've been turned into a giant spider, what would you do?”

Azriel sighed. This was his fault, after all. He had encouraged you.

“That's even worse than the last one,” he muttered.

“You said I would make a lovely worm.” You hummed. “But what about a huge spider? Or wait, even better, a Middengard Wyrm?”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. “Baby, I love you, but please go to sleep,” he murmured, though his lips betrayed him with a faint smile.

Your soft laugh echoed in the silence. “Alright, alright,” you conceded. Azriel thought that was it, until you added, “The question is trickier and you need to think about it. I get it. You can tell me the answer in the morning.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but his smile was now impossible to hide. You felt it against your skin as he kissed the nape of your neck.

If entertaining your nonsense questions before falling asleep was the price he had to pay to be with you, then he'd gladly endure them again and again just to spend another night by your side.

It was just like you'd said. Everything had a bright side if only he looked for it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel fic #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #fanfiction #fluff #one shot #requested

1K notes · View notes

horrorhot-line · 1 month ago

Text

metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self or way of life.

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo / immune! reader

➵ word count: 14.2k

➵ genre: of avoidance and coincidences

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: s1 ep 3. for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why your peaceful life had been turned upside down. no matter what you did, you always found yourself dragged into saiki’s problems. worst of all? at first you wanted nothing to do with him, and slowly, without even realising it, you didn’t mind being around him as much.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

➵ previous part - serendipity

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

if you use the above format of speech in your fanfic, please credit as I was the first to come with it, thank you <3

author’s notes: this post is a rewrite from my friends to lovers series that I first posted back in 2020, the relaunch you’ve been waiting for is finally here! it’s still pretty much the same with a few changes here and there, hope you all enjoy <3

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Your plan to swerve the scary psychic you had the pleasure of calling your classmate worked well enough—until it didn't. It all started going downhill when you ran into Saiki at the park.

He just happened to be there because your paths intertwined on the way home from school. What's worse is you had taken a different route on purpose to avoid getting involved with the man, only to find yourself in the same crowd as him, watching a magic show.

From your first encounter with Saiki, you had decided to keep your distance, especially after you found out he was probably the most powerful psychic in the world. You had promised not to tell anyone his secret and made sure not to be caught near him, yet there he was.

Truth be told, you were terrified of him. You didn't have enough fingers to count how many times you had caught sight of him in your peripherals in the days following your visit to his house, following you to make sure you held up your end of the bargain and didn't tell anyone of his powers. Which? Rude, first of all, bold of him to assume you were a snitch; if he was a telepath, then surely he knew you weren't the type to spill secrets.

"Who's ready for another très bien trick by me? Master illusionist Uryoko Chono!" The magician performing the show asked as he pulled out a cone you recognised all too well from birthday parties, and you moved swiftly to the side so confetti wouldn't land in your hair. You didn't have the time to stand idly by and watch— you needed to be home for the new soap opera that would launch that day!

That, and you didn't want to get caught in any situation that involved a particular psychic. You decided to do a U-turn when you saw Saiki's pink hair in the crowd; turning on your heel, you were ready to hightail it out of there until the magician addressed you.

"Hey, student! Why don't you stay and join the fun? You too, pink hair! I'll do a trick to put a smile on those faces!" Chono exclaimed, leaning on the table before him and putting a hand out to stop the two of you. There was little chance of that happening; you were sure Saiki didn't even know how to stretch the corners of his mouth.

You sighed, fully ready to leave, only to be greeted by the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. Great! Now you had to stay. It seemed like Saiki felt the same, shooting a side glance your way before staring at the green-haired magician as the both of you decided in silence that the attention of leaving wasn't worth it— being a sheep would have to suffice for now.

Finding yourself at the front of the crowd, you deadpanned at the magician. "Oh! I see you're a sceptic." No, that wasn't it. It was more the fact that you could think of a million other things that called your attention, and this magic show wasn't one of them. "Well, once you see my show, you will become a believer in my powers to amaze." You could only purse your lips at the statement; you weren't buying it.

All magicians were hacks who used their ability to misdirect to achieve their illusions. What was the saying again? The closer you look, the less you see. That, and after finding out about Saiki and how vast his powers were, nothing this man had to offer would phase you. Yet, you watched anyway because walking away would be way too awkward now.

Saiki walked towards the crowd, joining it at your side. How had this caught his attention, you wondered. Did the magician really have supernatural powers? 'No— I'm watching, so he leaves me alone.' Saiki had yet to think something at you in weeks, and when he did, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

You were sure you'd never get used to his voice echoing inside your brain. At least he had cleared up your misunderstanding, you thought to yourself before moving away slightly, so the man in question wasn't too close to you. From where you stood before, you could practically feel his body heat and your touch-starved brai— Stop! Don't think anymore, and just focus on the show.

The magician pulled out a box with a cartoon-like shooting star on it. "Right. I hold here an ordinary cardboard box." Chono stated, holding it up for the crowd to see. 'Nope, there's nothing ordinary about it.' Saiki thought at you, his expression dead, as always. You still couldn't understand why Saiki was talking to you. Curiosity peaked, you replied anyway, 'What do you mean by that?'

"As you can see, it's empty inside." The magician tilted the box, opening it so all could see, and he was right. 'At that angle, you can't tell there's a partition.' So that's how the performers did it; you always wondered how they accomplished tricks like that. You were right— this guy was a hack!

At least his showmanship was on point. "But, watch! Just a couple taps and it's party time." Chono said as he tapped his cane on the box before opening it, only for birds to shoot out and fly away into the distance. "Aren't they amazing, folks?"

The crowd cheered and clapped for the magician, not knowing what you and Saiki did. "Hey there, kids! Très bien, am I right?" The magician asked as he pointed a finger at the both of you. Not to you, they weren't, but the trick probably would have perplexed you either way if it wasn't for Saiki telling you how the box worked.

'It's not très bien. If anything, I'm worried about that dove.' Saiki remarked, and you turned to look at him questioningly, his gaze fixed on the magician. 'What dove?' You inquired, confused as to what he meant. Saiki answered, but his eyes never left the green-haired man's form.

'He has a dove under that hat, but I think he forgot about it.' You examined the magician's maroon hat, guessing Saiki could see through it with his X-ray vision. 'Shouldn't we tell him?' You looked from Saiki to the hat and back, your concern growing. 'After. I'll tell him once he's done here.' So the rock of a man next to you did have a heart, after all.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention here for the main event of our show, my super illusion!" Where had Chono pulled out those massive boxes from in the few seconds you looked away? His hat, you mused, chuckling quietly to yourself, stopping only when you noticed Saiki shoot a look of dismay your way.

Wow, tough crowd— then again, the psychic didn't really have a sense of humour to begin with. "Magically teleporting from one box to another will be my lovely assistant, Michael!"

Chono snapped his fingers before looking to his right, and you followed his line of sight only to see an old man with a straw hat on his unruly grey hair. 'Lovely is a stretch.' You winced. Were those flies buzzing around him— and what was that foul odour he was emanating?

You had to agree with Saiki on that one. You could think of a lot of ways to describe him off the top of your head, but 'lovely' definitely wasn't one of them. Then again, from the looks of it, he was probably homeless, so who were you to judge? At the end of the day, you felt sorry for him. Too busy lamenting is sympathy; you didn't notice Saiki staring at you before looking back at the show.

"The beautiful Michael is entering the box." The assistant was definitely not beautiful, either. Maybe Chono was blind? Now, if that were true— it might've gotten a clap out of you. The magician explained the trick yapped as you watched the old man get in before the lid was shut behind him. Chono snapped his fingers again, "And, drum roll," before doing some weird dance and making sound effects with his mouth. Guess he had to raise the level of excitement somehow.

This act had better blow your socks off, your legs hurt from standing in place this long. 'This is so sad.' You nodded at Saiki's thought, 'It's almost painful to watch.' The second-hand embarrassment you were getting was through the roof, 5 more minutes of this and you were sure you'd be a victim of spontaneous human combustion.

Was it too late to regret your choices? You did not waste 20 minutes of the airing of the new soap just to be disappointed. The crowd murmured in anticipation. 'What expression am I supposed to be making right now?'

Even you couldn't tell Saiki the answer to that, 'A smile maybe?' You mused, only for him to shoot a glare at you, causing you to put your hands up in surrender. Chono released the ball of confetti in his hand, and you watched as it fell to the ground. 'His overconfidence makes me cringe.' Your face scrunched at the scene— you weren't sure how much more you could take. 'You and me both.'

'And I'm still worried about that dove. Does that hat have air holes?' From what you could tell, no, it didn't. At least Saiki cared about the well-being of animals. 'I'm not worried, I just don't wanna be around to see a bird die.' You rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest. Of course, he was the type to deny it. God forbid he actually had the ability to express concern for something.

"Alright, let's open the box!" Chono said as he walked over to the other box, putting his hand on top. 'Uh oh, lovely Mike isn't done teleporting yet.' You were beyond confused, turning to Saiki, who was still facing the stage. 'He's under the table.' Your eyebrows unfurrowed as realisation washed over you. That made sense, so the trick was to use the table to go to and from the box.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, dreading what was to come. "3, 2, 1... It's party time!" Chono exclaimed, a huge grin on his face. Michael came out, alright— just not from the box. He crawled out from underneath the table and raised his arms as if he had completed a feat. Chono stood with his back to Michael, his hand gesturing to the empty box.

A comical sweat bead formed on your forehead, and you cringed internally. Listening to the sound of a fork on the chalkboard probably would have been a better use of your time. You bit your fist as if that would help ease how uncomfortable you felt. Was it too late to make a run for it?

The crowd was deathly silent, and it was no wonder why. 'Now I really don't know what expression to make, maybe this one?' Saiki remarked as he observed the magician. You watched as Chono's expression fell, a hideous grimace taking its place as if he'd just witnessed an entity of cosmic horror like Cthulhu. 'Yeah, that seems appropriate', Saiki confirmed, and you were glad his unintentional comedy saved you from losing further brain cells.

The crowd dispersed shortly after that, and you stayed behind with Saiki to witness the aftermath.

"Why should I pay you for ruining the illusion?!" Chono exclaimed at Michael, who only retorted. "I moved at the normal speed— it was your darn pattern that got too fast. Now, you hand over that 500 yen." The assistant put his hand out, expecting his payment.

"No one tipped me for this performance, so I couldn't pay you even if I wanted to," Chono stated before he noticed your and Saiki's presence. "Hey, why are you two hanging around?" The magician said as he turned his back to Michael. Saiki wordlessly raised his finger to his head and bent it repeatedly.

"What, oh, you wanna give me a tip? Haha, I could never take money from a kid. The look of joy on your face—" Chono cut himself off when he looked down at the hat he took off his head. "—PICO!" That poor bird, you couldn't help but think.

"I completely forgot she was up there," Chono said, now sitting down as he stroked the dove. So that's why Saiki chose to linger even after the show had ended— he was still worried about the bird. Truth be told, you'd nearly forgotten after you saw the last trick. 'How can you forget there's a dove on your head?' Saiki stood at Chono's side as he looked down at the white creature.

You questioned the same thing- surely the animal had rustled and moved around up there. "So, you weren't trying to tip me; you were trying to remind me. Wait— does that mean... That you're a magician? That's how you knew she was up there." Saiki clenched his fist, a frown forming on his face. No, he was an esper. 'I should've kept walking.' Saiki lamented.

"With instincts that good, you must have hated my show." At least the green-haired man was right about one thing. Saiki had, in fact, hated the show, but he only had his powers to blame for that. "Maybe I'm not cut out for the magician game after all." Cue the sad music in the background— where did the sound even come from? Was there a hidden speaker somewhere in the park?

You were sure the universe had some sort of playlist, like a version of a 90s TV show's laughing track, the one that went off at the right moments. "Until a few months ago, I was your average office drone," Chono told the two of you, bowing his head as he sat on the park bench.

Hold it. You did not agree to listen to whatever existential crisis he had going on. "Then, I made a small mistake." Of course, you'd have to hear his sob story anyway. 'Oh, boy.' You sighed, waiting for the magician to get it all off his chest. "Corporate fat cats laid me off. Then, my wife skipped town."

Damn, homeboy was really going through it, alright. 'Is it too late to walk away?' Saiki questioned no one in particular, but you answered anyway. 'It is.'

"With no job, I couldn't pay the mortgage anymore. One little mistake and my career, wife and home had all disappeared, and then it dawned on me. I should become an illusionist." This was heartbreaking and all, but you had to wonder where he was going with this story. "Wait- what?" Was it you, or was Saiki's voice hot as fu— No! Now was not the time!

"Because so many things had vanished from my life, I thought it must mean that disappearing them was my talent!" You nearly choked on your spit. Well, that took a turn. The plot twist gave you whiplash. Oh, dear. This poor man... somebody help slap some sense into him. "Your only talent is self-delusion," Saiki was right— the man needed a reality check.

"So, even though I had been offered another office job, I turned it down to start my new life doing street magic." At least Chono looked pumped about it all. "Again, what?" You were just as bewildered as Saiki was, questioning the green-haired man's logic. "If I can save up 1 million yen, I can buy the 'sawing a body' in half trick— then, my wife is sure to come back!"

You shook your head in disappointment; the man had clearly lost his mind, another reason to add to the list of why not everyone should be allowed to procreate.

If left like this, he'd end up a victim of loan sharks or worse. "Don't be so sure," Saiki commented, and you almost thought he was talking to you. He was addressing both. Why would his wife come back if he did that? And how did Chono plan on raising that kind of cash when he had just lost his lovely assistant? "But then I wonder if I chose the wrong path."

'Yes, yes you did.' Saiki thought bluntly, and you agreed mentally. At least the magician finally saw clarity and the error in his ways. 'He needs to quit street magic and get a real job.' You thought back. "Sorry, didn't mean to get so gloomy." Chono apologised, looking up at the two of you.

'What'll it take for him to give up?' You pondered at Saiki's question, bringing your hand up to your chin to think. Maybe showing him an impossible illusion? If it was something he'd never be able to do, he'd quit. "Let's get back to your background as an illusionist and how you knew I had a dove up there." Chono gestured at his hat, and you watched realisation dawn on Saiki. Over what, you had no idea. 'That's it.'

You observed as Saiki wordlessly walked to stand directly parallel to Chono and you, pulling his school bag off his shoulders to hold it in front of him. "Whoa! Gonna pull something out of your bag?" Chono commented as you watched on.

Saiki held up his other hand as his eyes suddenly widened. You raised an eyebrow; this was the most expressive you'd seen him since he found out about your immunity. 'I'll do a trick that's so beyond his ability, he'll realise how far gone he is and give up.' Was that why— Did Saiki take inspiration from your thoughts? He did.

"You're gonna pull out... a dove!" Chono guessed before stating he could pull out a bowling ball himself. 'Hmph.' Saiki's stoic expression remained even if you could feel the smugness emanating from him. Then your eyes widened when he pulled out the hand that was rummaging inside his bag. Nothing could have prepared you for what the psychic did.

He pulled out Michael by the hat on his head, though the man looked like a scrunched-up piece of paper. Saiki placed the old man on the floor, and you watched Chono's eyes bulge from his socket as he gasped. Surely, that would be enough to get the aspiring magician to stop his foolish ways. If you didn't know of Saikis's abilities, you would have become a believer.

"That's impossible!" Chono exclaimed as he fell to his knees, his jaw still slacking. 'Aren't you supposed to say très bien? At least this will make him give up.' Saiki stated as he moved to walk away and turned his back to Chono. You tried not to stare at Saiki's dump truck— and failed.

"Thank you. Now I can see. If your talent was hair, it'd be a flowing mane, while mine is just an eyelash." You stifled a laugh at the example Chono used, and who could blame you? 'I don't quite understand using hair for that metaphor, but at least he's finally—' Saiki didn't get to finish that thought when he turned his head; Chono had already left your side to kneel behind the psychic.

"Make me your apprentice." The scene reminded you of One Punch Man, where Genos asked Saitama to make him a disciple. 'Should've seen it coming.' You only gazed over Saiki's shoulder to watch Michael hold up a 500 yen coin, talking about how he was going to eat a hot cup of soup.

Maybe sticking around and missing the airing of that soap opera was worth it— you had to admit, this was far more entertaining.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Saiki may have walked the same way home as you, but his house came before yours. After the whole fiasco with the magician happened, and you realised your goal of not bumping into said psychic had failed, you chose not to take a detour but to walk with the guy instead.

No point wasting more time, you had reasoned. Your original plan to go home in hopes of catching the last few minutes of the TV show you wanted to watch was a bust because when you neared the Saiki household, you noticed Mrs Saiki standing outside the house in the front yard trimming bushes with gardening scissors.

Before you had a chance to make your getaway after greeting her, she exclaimed that it was far too late in the afternoon to walk home without eating, and even though you found her caring demeanour sweet, you weren't grateful for the sentiment when it meant spending more time with Saiki. He could still kill you, after all. He would never, not when you gave him coffee jelly.

Sure he hadn't done anything yet, but the man did threaten to smite you off this earth the last time you were in his house. Could anyone really blame you for wanting to keep your distance? Try as you might though— you couldn't say no to the lovely woman who was Saiki's mother. Her smile threatened to blind you, and you didn't want to upset her by refusing.

Dinner with the Saikis was eventful, to say the least.

Mrs Saiki had ushered you inside quickly, but her son hadn't followed the two of you in. You didn't question it when she locked the front door. When he did step into the kitchen minutes later, he was followed by his dad.

Mr Saiki didn't acknowledge your existence— instead, he rushed over to his wife. "I can't believe you changed the locks on me again!" He complained, and you felt in that moment that you chose the wrong day to come over.

Were they having marital issues? You swore that the last time you were here they were getting along just fine. What had happened? "I hope you're hungry Ku-Ku. I'm making you breaded pork chops for dinner!" Mrs Saiki chose to ignore her husband, talking to her son instead as if the angry man behind her didn't exist.

"Hang on— now you're choosing to ignore me? Besides, I told you I wanted to have steak tonight!" Mr Saiki pointed his finger at his wife before raising his arm up and down as if he was throwing a tantrum— which he was. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot— but I can boil you a leather shoe." Mrs Saiki replied in a sickly sweet tone, turning back to her cooking. "I don't want a shoe, leather or not!"

You wanted to laugh but thought it wasn't the right time; you chose to snicker to yourself quietly from your seat on the sofa. 'I wonder when it went wrong for them. they used to be so passionate.' You watched on as Mr Saiki claimed his hate for his wife was as wide and deep as the Pacific Ocean, and she retorted by saying she hated him like a fish hated air.

Why did you have to be caught in the middle of this? 'Well, they're still passionate now, but it's a little different.' Saiki was not helping you keep a straight face; his commentary was genuinely the only thing keeping you going.

When the food was ready, you took up the seat next to Saiki at the dining table, staying silent as you dug into the rice with your chopsticks. "Gorge yourself, guys— I made a ton!" Mrs Saiki said with a smile on her face. "Hey, hey, hey! Hey!" Mr Saiki stood up from his seat at the dining table, slapping his hand on the surface like an angry restaurant customer.

You couldn't blame the guy; you and Saiki had gotten pork chops for dinner. Mr Saiki, however, had received a leather shoe filled to the brim with rice, garnished with gravy on top and chopsticks placed inside it. "Is it good, Ku? Y/n— Oh, honey, would you like something else?" Mrs Saiki gave a closed-eyed grin to her husband, who stood in front of her. "No, because I bet it's just the other shoe."

"Bon Appetit!" Saiki's dad had guessed right; it was another shoe, but it was a blue sneaker. "That's not even from the same pair!" You watched steam flow out of the shoe, wondering how this situation was real. You felt like you had been sucked into some comedy show. 'They've been going at each other for a year.' Your eyebrows shot up at Saiki's revelation, watching on as the couple argued.

Mr Saiki gave up on trying to get his partner to be civil, turning to his son with the cooked leather shoe in his hand. "Hey, Kusuo— use your powers to turn this old shoe into a steak for Daddy." Saiki's thoughts flooded into your brain, stopping you from hearing his dad's rambling.

'So, in case you forgot, this pathetic dude's my dad, Kuniharu Saiki. He's lazy and irresponsible— and asks for help with everything in his life. But surprise, surprise, the more I help, the more useless he gets. So, lately, I've stopped doing him any favours.' Wow, Saiki sure was cold, dissing his father like it was nothing.

'I guessed all that already— Who are you talking to?'

'The audience.'

'...Stop breaking the fourth wall, please.'

Your only reply was a side eye from the psychic, which you ignored as you took another bite of rice. You observed as Mr Saiki stopped rambling as he realised his son wasn't going to listen to him. "What?! How dare you take your mother's side in this?! Do you have any idea how many shoes I have to lick each day to buy that food you're eating now?!!" Mr Saiki shouted, and you silently watched as Saiki continued to eat his food quietly with no change in his expression.

"So, you do like to eat shoes?" You guessed that much was enough for his father to realise his son wasn't going to lift a finger to help. Mr Saiki gave in, "Alright, I'll eat it—" He shovelled the rice into his mouth after he picked up the plate only to shoot up out of his seat seconds later, "It stinks! What did you do to this shoe?! Are you trying to poison your father?!" Mr Saiki exclaimed at his son.

"I'm pretty sure that's how they always smell, dummy," Saiki commented, still eating his rice. You watched as Mrs Saiki addressed her son when he put his bowl down, a shining bright aura around her. Where did that bright light come from? "Hey, Ku? Now, just remember what I've always said. Please don't use your powers for evil."

'This is my mom, Kurumi Saiki.' Mrs Saiki clasped her hand around her son's, "You must only use your powers to help those in need. Or those people who you're certain are genuinely nice—"

'She's a big reason why I haven't let my gifts turn me to the dark side.'

'Is that a Star Wars reference?'

Saiki ignored your question— continuing his not-so-inner monologue, 'She's a caring soul— well, to me.' You were taken aback when the sweet air around Mrs Saiki changed to something sinister. "—But, feel free to use your powers to hurt Daddy." This whole situation was getting more and more preposterous. 'She kinda has a dark side herself.' You could see that.

Mrs Saiki seemed to notice her husband scoffing down Saiki's food when she was distracted around the same time you did, and you watched as she slowly turned and her expression shifted from a smile to a cold glare. "Stop eating Kusuo's dinner, you thieving son of bi—h!" Mrs Saiki looked extremely pissed off, a tick mark appearing on her face. Hang on— she knew how to swear?!

You felt sorry for Mr Saiki, but there was no way you'd get involved; you didn't want his wife to aim her anger at you instead. "That's it! We're taking this outside!" She shouted, and you had to admit the situation was getting interesting. Who would win? Your bets were on Saiki's mom.

'In truth, I could break up this fight whenever I feel like it, but this is something they're going to have to work out themselves.' Did he think things at you on purpose even though he could just not talk to you? You didn't want to admit it, but the idea made something inside you churn. Were the two of you closer than you realised?

You watched Saiki's attention shift from the brawl to the dessert that was placed near him on the dining table when the food was laid out. 'Hm? Coffee-flavoured jelly? ...Hmm, doesn't taste bad— earthy with a slightly citrus finish. Don't let the name fool you— this jelly is a mature, dignified treat.'

You couldn't pay attention to Saiki fangirling over the dessert, too busy watching Mrs Saiki handle her husband like she was some WWE fighter and he was her opponent. She put him in all types of chokeholds before raising him over her head, preparing to throw him. Was now a good time to take your chance and sneak away?

'Better still, when you add just a splash of whole milk, it becomes an entirely new flavoured sensation,' Saiki continued to eat the coffee jelly, turning away from his parents to take another bite, '—and that hint of decadence is everything I ask for in my dessert.'

When you looked back at Saiki, you froze. The fight was long forgotten as you watched the corners of his mouth lift. You realised then, that was the first time you had seen Saiki smile. You didn't want to admit it, but he suited him. Really well, too well, actually.

Saiki didn't get to eat any more of his treat because when he raised his hand to his mouth to consume another spoonful, Mrs Saiki launched her husband across the room, and he crashed into his son, which forced the jelly-filled utensil out of the psychic's hand. You watched the jelly fall from the Saiki's hand in slow motion until you saw a flash of pink.

Saiki had managed to catch the dessert in his mouth before it fell on the carpet. He was now on the floor, and you couldn't help but think about what you had done for the universe to force you to stay at the Saiki household during this whole fiasco.

"You wanted to eat jelly that bad?" Mr Saiki had gotten up, whereas Saiki was still on his stomach on the ground, chewing what was in his mouth. "Forget the jelly— We got bigger problems! Your mothers turned into a monster!" Your eyes travelled to where Mr Saiki was pointing, thinking he was exaggerating.

He wasn't— Mrs Saiki's face had transformed into what could only be described as a Japanese Onii mask from folklore. "Stop running from me, you coward." Even her voice had changed as if she had been possessed. Oh, dear. "You've got to stop her! You're my only hope to stop her reign of terror. Do it! Slay the demon!" You wanted to run your hands down your face in exasperation, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

Mrs Saiki let out a demonic laugh as she grabbed onto the dining table. "You're not leaving 'til I say so!" She exclaimed before she raised the furniture above her head to throw it at her husband— how had the food not slid off? You wanted to leave but didn't want to incur Mrs Saiki's wrath. Mr Saiki tried to shield himself by bringing his arms up to cover his face as he closed his eyes. "Ahhh! Oh god! Ah— Huh?"

When he opened his eyes, Mr Saiki realised the table was floating above his head, all thanks to Saiki using his psychokinesis. "Hey, Kusuo!" Saiki's father went from shocked to smug, smirking as he realised he'd been saved. 'I've got the weirdest parents, I don't really care about stopping another pointless fight, but I can't help myself.' At least Saiki had stepped in, lest the house gets trashed and you get dragged into the war.

"So now you're on your dad's side? But I even made you pork chops!" Mrs Saiki's face was finally back to normal, her voice too, and you let out a sigh of relief. You were still confused by Saiki's comment. 'Why do I say it's pointless? Just wait.'

"I want nothing to do with either of you again!" When Mrs Saiki's voice flooded into your brain, you nearly jumped. 'That's a lie. Truth is, I love them!' Your head whipped to look at Saiki's back, guessing he must have used his powers on you. At least he had helped clear your confusion.

You couldn't help but wonder why she was lying, why she wasn't honest about her true feelings. What was the point of this fight again? 'No matter how hard they try, the voices in their hearts always bubble up. In other words, all these fights they have— are a sham.'

Your brain hurt— because trying to wrap your head around why the couple was acting like they despised each other when they didn't was nothing short of difficult. You rubbed at your temples, Saiki using another power you weren't used to had gotten to you. When Mr Saiki claimed he hated his wife and son, his inner thoughts told you he just wanted to snuggle.

They fought on the surface, but the voices in your head told you that they were just complimenting each other internally. 'Like I said, another pointless fight. There is one person here who has real reason to be upset, me—'

'Don't forget me, buddy. I didn't ask to be dragged into this.'

'—Those weirdos interrupted my dessert. I guess only a psychic can fix this.'

Mr and Mrs Saiki stopped arguing when they started saying they loved each other telepathically. You watched in amusement as they started blushing, getting confused as to why they could hear each other. Realisation dawned on them as they turned to their son, "Kusuo!" They both exclaimed.

'Forced shared telepathy. I used my psychic powers to link their minds at the neural level. In other words, thanks to me, they can now hear each other's thoughts.' Even though it was late, you were somewhat grateful he explained to you how you could hear what his parents were thinking.

Mr and Mrs Saiki told their son to stop his powers because they didn't want the other to realise they were still in love. What a disaster. At least the fighting had stopped. You watched the psychic's parents go from being embarrassed to pronouncing their adoration for each other.

With a hand on his wife's waist, Mr Saiki declared that he loved her, and she did the same. Where had the flowers surrounding them come from? 'Cool. The end.' Saiki deadpanned. Finally, the fighting was over.

While his parents apologised to each other profusely, Saiki went back to his seat at the dining table to finish his dessert. You sat across from him, relieved that the war in his living room had passed. 'What a pain. Normal people are complicated. At least now I can finish my dessert in peace.' This time around, when Saiki smiled, you had the chance to properly observe it.

He looked handsome, you had to admit. You knew the man was attractive, but he looked 100x better when he was showing normal emotions. It was over dessert, but still! Did Saiki have a sweet tooth? Would he smile again if you got him something from the bakery? You shook your head, choosing to find interest in the furniture around the psychic's house.

You didn't know how to feel when you found out that the fight started when Mrs Saiki ate her husband's coffee jelly, overhearing the conclusion of their argument. Was all of that because of some dessert? This was ridiculous.

You gazed on as Saiki's expression fell when Saiki's mom twirled over to her son and snatched the coffee jelly the psychic was eating right out of his hand so she could present it to Mr Saiki. Saiki's smile was replaced by a dark expression as he stared at his hand where his snack had just been.

Oh, no... He was super angry. You ignored the man's father, claiming the dessert was a mature, dignified treat, rummaging through your school bag to find what you needed.

The rumbling of the windows in the Saiki household stopped when you placed the bag on the floor beside your seat and used your hand to slide the coffee jelly you fished out onto Saiki's side of the table. It only took the psychic a few seconds to realise what exactly it was in front of him, and you grinned.

What could you say? The guy looked cute when he was confused. Burdened with the knowledge of how powerful he was, you sometimes forgot that the man sitting across from you was like any other human.

After a beat, he made eye contact with you, and you swore you saw his eyes sparkle. Your smile dropped in slight shock, your lips parting.

"Coffee jelly?"

You gulped, catching your bearings, too distracted to realise he had used his actual voice to talk.

"Yeah, I forgot to eat it at lunch— you can have it, Kusuo."

When you called him by his first name without thinking, having heard it so many times today from his parents— you thought he'd complain. Instead, Saiki grabbed the treat and gingerly peeled back the seal before digging in, a soft smile gracing his face again. You ignored the weird feeling that washed over your heart.

Maybe the psychic wasn't all that bad.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

When night fell, you headed up to Saiki's room. The psychic knew of your inner turmoil of not being able to catch the show you wanted to watch and said his mom had most likely recorded the pilot episode before you two had reached his house. 'I'm only doing this because I don't want to owe you for that coffee jelly.' That was fair; you couldn't fault a man who kept up with his debts.

Grabbing the cassette from his living room, Saiki walked past you and up the stairs. When you stood in confusion, expecting to watch it on the living room TV, he turned to tilt his head toward his bedroom as if telling you to follow him.

'Hurry up. Before I change my mind.'

That is how you found yourself seated on Saiki's bed, with him sitting in the chair he had pulled from his desk, right in front of the television.

He had left the room earlier to change into more suitable clothes: a white sweatshirt with blue sleeves and brown pants. This was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes—when he kidnapped you to interrogate you in your first real meeting, he hadn't bothered to change out of his school uniform. You had to admit that even though he didn't have an eye for colour coordination, he still managed to pull it off.

Truth be told, you were disappointed. The show didn't live up to the promotions you had seen all over social media the past week. You were expecting a love story starring Mikoto Teruhashi. Was it you, or was that name familiar?

What you got was some twisted joke of a romance. The female lead's family died in a car crash, she got cheated on with her sister no less, and she got married to a stranger to save her family only to find out that her ex-boyfriend didn't sleep with another woman; she had walked in on his long-lost twin brother instead. All in one episode.

You felt like you had whiplash with all those plot twists, and honestly, what a letdown— you expected better writing. Sighing, you shifted yourself on Saiki's bed when you felt pins and needles assault your feet. You chose to cross your legs, yawning into your hand. Was now a good time to go home?

"Is binge-watching shows your favourite pastime?" You asked, trying to make conversation between the infomercials. It was better than telling him immediately that you wanted to leave after he went through the trouble of doing you a favour. "I like watching TV. It's one of the few things that can surprise me. I don't know what's coming next because I can't hear the actor's thoughts." The psychic replied.

"Makes sense." You nodded, not really knowing what to say next. "Speaking of next, that new mystery show's supposed to start soon." Saiki moved to sit with one leg on his chair, his arm resting on his knee for support. You nearly lost your mind when he used his index finger to change the channel.

Oh, yeah— he's a psychic; of course, he could do that, you thought, ignoring that your brain had decided to short-circuit on you. "Tonight, you will witness a miracle!" Sure, you heard the host of the TV show talk, but his words didn't quite reach you, too busy looking at his fingers and wondering what else they co— Dear, lord, you needed to go outside and touch the grass, hug a tree, probably both.

Clearing your throat and trying your best to practice self-awareness, you turned to the TV screen, a mixture of green and maroon pixels coming together slowly as the cameraman zoomed in. No way... that man in the distance looked too familiar for your liking. It couldn't be. "What." Saiki mirrored your shock, his eyes widening as he leaned forward in his seat. The host on the TV continued. "A stupendous amazing illusion performed by the former homeless man turned master magician, Uryoko Chono!"

"Now that's Très Bien!" Chono said through the screen, and you watched Saiki's face deadpan. "What did I tell you about TV surprising me?" You didn't have a witty reply for him this time— far too stunned that the magician from that afternoon had managed to get his own segment on live TV mere hours after you met him.

Was that even possible? Then again, after the month you'd had, was there any point in questioning what was and wasn't achievable? "After losing it all, he became a street magician and mastered tricks that others can only dream of!" The host came into view— a mic in his hand, as he praised the green-haired man beside him. You brought a hand up to hold your head, baffled into silence.

"But this isn't just a surprise; it's unbelievable. How is a man who almost killed his dove good enough to be on TV?" Even you didn't know the answer to that. You would've broken the fourth wall and asked the writer in your desperation if Saiki hadn't done it one too many times during his parents' argument. Too bad, even the author of this fanfic doesn't know.

You watched as the pink-haired psychic stared at the screen, gobsmacked. "You might wanna close your mouth, flies will get in. Never mind that— we just saw him before. How's he gotten on TV so soon?"

"Blame the author; it's for plot convenience." Finding out your guess was correct brought you anything but relief. You exhaled in exasperation, a new headache forming in your skull. "There you go, breaking the fourth wall again." You commented, shaking your head as you tutted at him. "What I'm attempting tonight is the most dangerous escape you'll ever see!" Chono's voice coming from the TV filled the room.

Your face slowly lost its colour as they showed snippets of what was to come. A box, chains, then knives, followed by a drop, fire and— was that a bulldozer?! You were sure of it now; the green-haired magician was toast. "No way he's this good." Saiki had taken your advice and shut his mouth; it was no longer hanging open. You side-eyed him from the bed, "He's a goner."

"But live or not, they'd never put someone on TV that might get hurt, right?" You shook your head to yourself; they would— they had. "Don't be too sure. If he dies, the show's view count will skyrocket." You could already see the hashtags trending on Twitter X.

The camera panned to the magician in question. "As you can see, folks, Chono's hands and feet are both shackled. As he makes his way to the crate— Oh no, he fell!" You observed as Chono faceplanted and kissed the floor. Was this second-hand embarrassment you felt? "Just a trip; he should be fine." You weren't sure you fully believed that statement, and by the sound of it, neither did Saiki.

"He's safely inside the box. And now, Mr Micheal— Chono's formerly homeless assistant, will lock him in." You could only watch on in horror as realisation dawned over the magician's face, and he exclaimed to wait— that he wasn't ready. You didn't like where this was going. From the tricks you had seen that afternoon, you highly doubted that the green-haired man could pull this off. He wasn't going to make it.

"Him screaming isn't a good sign. Neither is all that banging he's doing." Saiki's face paled at the implication. "Thank you for that, Captain obvious." The psychic only glared at you, and you were too busy biting your fist while watching the TV to notice. The host told the audience that Chono only had 5 minutes to escape or the box would be destroyed with him in it. The camera cut to a shot of the timer counting down.

"I'm sceptical he can do this." So were you. There was only 3 minutes left. "Should I help? I don't even think I can. I'm not close enough to jump in and save him without being seen." You were on the edge of your seat.

Two minutes left. "Then again, if he fails, he dies, and I can't have that happen." You imagined what was to come, the TV announcing that Chono was burning alive inside the crate.

"It would ruin my night." You swore the psychic was just talking to himself at that point. At least Saiki cared; the boy did have a heart, after all. The pink-haired psychic stood up from where he was sitting on the chair. "If he fails, the footage would cut into my mystery show—" You took your statement back; he was heartless. "Is there a way to teleport in without getting on TV? ...Yes. The one place the camera can't find me— inside the box itself."

With that, Saiki was gone. He vanished into thin air; and when your mind finally caught up with the fact that he could teleport, you guessed he was now inside the box. At least he was doing something, even if his heart wasn't quite in the right place. You just hoped he didn't get himself caught.

All alone in the room, you could only keep your eyes glued to the screen, waiting with bated breath. 'Kusuo?' You hoped he could hear you over everyone else's thoughts, hoped he was within range. He did, and he was.

'He's not here.'

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard his voice reverberate in your head. Then, his words hit you.

'What do you mean he's not there?!'

'...He really has gotten better. I mean he's not here, L/n— the banging was coming from a CD player.'

So Chono hadn't even been inside the box when they chained it up? Why wasn't Saiki back then? There was no point in him staying there. The 5-minute timer was up, and you watched Michael come into view, struggling to hold the swords he was about to pierce the crate with.

'Hurry, Kusuo— you need to come back.' You winced at the heavy concern lacing your voice— thought?

'I can't. I have to think fast; I can't just teleport back out. Th at power needs to be recharged for 3 minutes before I can use it again.'

You watched as the magician's assistant started to put the swords in one by one. 'Oh, crap.' 17 more to go.

'You still there?'

You couldn't help but stress when he didn't respond. Chewing on your bottom lip, you tried not to think about the cold sweat at the idea of Saiki not making it out. 3 swords left. How did Saiki plan to survive this one?

'Yeah. No one could— except me. I dislocated almost every joint in my body.'

With just a few words from Saiki, you felt like a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. The relief you felt was short-lived, though, as dread pooled inside your stomach at his words.

'Are you okay?!'

'I'm not gonna lie— it hurts.'

You wracked your brain to try to find a way to help him, but you came up empty. Sure, you wanted nothing to do with him, but you weren't comfortable knowing he was in pain. Why? You had no idea. You chose to blame common human decency, but the feeling of your heart sinking suggested otherwise.

You watched as the TV crew hooked a line to the crate before it was announced that a crane would lift it and drop it from a 30-metre height. You raised your hands to cover your face because you weren't sure you wanted to see, only for you to move your fingers so you could peer at the screen seconds later.

'The only way to avoid certain death... is...' You watched the crate collide with the floor, the bottom of it crumpling from the impact. '...To jump. Flawless timing.'

You stopped tensing, visibly relaxing, when you heard Saiki in your head again, never more grateful than now for his telepathy. He managed to save himself again, and you hadn't appreciated his powers more than in that moment. After the dust from the crash settled, the host on TV announced that the box would be set on fire. You furrowed your eyebrows— did they really need to go that far? It was too much overkill, in your opinion.

'Didn't even get a chance to catch my breath. At least with all the hot weather lately, I've been able to hone my psychic powers over temperature.' You honestly didn't know how to feel when the support crew doused the crate in gasoline, lit a match and set the box alight— only for the host of the show to reveal that fire wasn't the final boss.

'There's more?'

How was he planning on getting out in time when he hadn't passed his 3-minute limitation over teleportation? Wait— how had the crew managed to do so much damage in that time window? The host confirmed your fears when they brought in a yellow steamroller. No way— were they planning to run over the box and flatten it completely, with Saiki still inside?!

You watched the stream roller reverse and then drive over the box, crushing it under its wheels. You watched silently, your heart beating out of your chest in worry. The host asked the audience how anyone could survive inside the box— until lights turned on behind him, showcasing Chono.

"Hold on, who is that I see? It's the miraculous illusionist himself, Uryoko Chono! He's alive!" The crowd went wild, breaking out into applause and screams at the trick. You couldn't care less! Where was Saiki?! Was he okay?!!

'How annoying. His wasn't the only great escape, but I got lucky. The soil was extra soft.'

It was your turn to go radio silent.

'...Did you dig a hole like some groundhog?'

You were just happy he was safe. God forbid you had to live with the fact that Saiki died and you had witnessed it. Then again, he was an all-powerful psychic— what did you expect? Of course, he'd make it out alive.

'I know. I said I liked TV because it can still surprise me— but this is too much.' You couldn't help but snort at the comment; his dry humour was growing on you. Saiki was right; the amount of turmoil the day involved was not something you had mentally prepared yourself to handle. Exhaustion took over you, and you let yourself fall back onto Saiki's bed.

Was Saiki's life always like this? Downright disastrous to the point where it was funny? You kinda felt sorry for him. "Très Bien, right?" Chono exclaimed when the host stated that the escape was great. You exhaled, placing your hands on your stomach and trying to relax.

"Hey, stick around for what's next—" Your head shot up, recognising the voice from the countless trailers you had seen for months plastered every time you opened an app. It was the male lead of the new mystery show everyone was looking forward to.

Your mind worked at a million miles per hour, and you were sure there were drawings of algebra floating around you. Saiki was a psychic, and if he was near the new show's star, he'd no doubt hear spoilers from the actor.

'Kusuo, come back.'

'I can't; I still have 13 seconds to go.'

Great. The show he was looking forward to, the reason he went to save Chono, would be spoilt because he chose to be a good human being. All because the lead actor was around, and of course, the guy knew what was to come— he had just finished filming it.

You made a decision then, one you knew you'd regret. Concentrating on controlling your breathing, you forced your mind to go blank. Then you imagined Saiki at the park he had transported to so he could save a certain magician.

You clenched your jaw. Saiki wasn't too far away, and if you used your immunity on him, it'd work, right? You had to try, at least. You reached out your hand in your mind, and when it came into contact with his shoulder, you saw what you were looking for.

The familiar thin white strings, millions of them shooting off from his temples in all different directions and disappearing into the distance when your eyes tried to follow them. You had no doubt they were the strings that connected Saiki's mind to anyone in a 200-metre radius.

With your hand still on Saiki, you imagined the actor who starred in the show's premiere as the love interest. That's when you found the thin line connecting the two, all the others melting in front of you as you forced yourself to focus. You had to hurry; you didn't have much time.

"The world premiere of a mystery called, 'Love Fantasy.'" You tried to dismiss the voice of the actor; he sounded like he was speaking from right next to you, and damn it, if his yapping wasn't as distracting as it felt. "My character will try to uncover the mystery of his girlfriend's death."

You clenched your jaw at the pain invading your skull, ignoring it as you reached out, using your index and middle finger as make-shift scissors, closing the two to cut the string. All the while, you questioned why you had chosen to use your talents for the psychic. Oh, yeah— it was because you felt bad for the guy.

The headache you experienced for the better half of the day skyrocketed when you opened your eyes. Damn, it hurt. You wished you had stayed on Saiki's bed.

As your vision began to swim, a familiar wave of nausea hit you. You felt the ground shift beneath you, unable to do anything as you realised you would fall face-first into Saiki's table. You hoped it wouldn't bruise. Closing your eyes, you braced for impact, expecting pain.

When it didn't come, you forced your eyelids to open, using the last ounce of energy you had left. Why did they have to feel so heavy? You still couldn't see clearly, but what you could tell was that someone had caught you before you kissed Saiki's carpet.

Your body was limp; try as you might, you couldn't get your limbs to listen to you. It hurt to breathe; the sharp pain in your ribs ensured that. You couldn't even raise your head to see who had caught you. Was it Saiki's dad? Had to be.

"...od grief... what happene..." You strained your ears to hear whoever was talking to you, to no avail. You scrunched your eyes shut when another wave of nausea hit you. You felt yourself getting picked up before being placed on something soft. The bed?

You took in sharp breaths, trying to ease the pain. No such luck. When you felt a hand on your forehead, you opened and squinted your eyes to see. Even with your fuzzy vision, you knew you recognised the pink you saw.

'Kusuo?' You thought at the psychic, hoping you had guessed right. 'Yes?' The relief that filled you when the pain seemed to ease at the sound of Saiki's voice in your head— was incomparable.

'Is that you?' A brief pause followed, and he answered before you could think of anything else. 'Who else? How did this happen?' Right, stupid question to ask. You closed your eyes again, assuming he asked about your deteriorating condition. 'I used nullification on you.'

Silence followed for a few seconds, and you missed Saiki's voice inside your brain. 'Why?' Was all he had asked, and you looked at him. You could see his face clearly now, and if you didn't feel like you would throw up the food Mrs Saiki had made for you earlier, you were sure you'd be flushed.

He was so close— you could feel his exhales fan your neck. You noticed the faint wrinkle in between his eyebrows. You returned to looking at his eyes, trying to name the emotion. Worry. 'Because you were looking forward to watching the show, and that actor would have spoilt it by accident.'

You shut your lids, feeling sheepish when you said it aloud; it wasn't like it was your job to care to begin with— but you did, and you couldn't understand why. That question would have to wait; first, you had to get better.

You didn't see Saiki move so much as you felt it. The moment he tried to lift himself off you, your stomach churned, and Saiki halted altogether. Your tense muscles relaxed as the pain dulled with the psychic's gesture. You opened your eyes to look at him, finding him looking at you already.

Granted, the pain wasn't as bad as the last few times, but you still appreciated the action. He broke the silence first, the staring contest between you two along with it as he looked away. 'Good grief. Stop doing troublesome things.' Was all he replied with, and you had half a mind to furrow your eyebrows in disbelief when you realised he was referring to your last comment to him. Your lips parted to shoot a retort at him, and that's when you saw it.

The corners of his mouth twitched. You almost thought it was a trick of the light in your peripherals until you looked at his lips.

Utterly shell-shocked, your mouth gaped open at the sight. Was Saiki smiling at you? Where was the coffee jelly? It was gone with a flash, replaced by his iconic deadpan. 'I was not.' He totally was! What a tsundere— not even able to admit that some part of him was low-key touched that you had done something for him out of consideration. 'I'm not touched; what you did was stupid. You have a fever.' You could only huff at Saiki's statement with the last of your energy.

'Yeah, that's normal. I mean, you're the most powerful psychic out there, and another person was involved.' You shouldn't have expected anything less. Turning off your immunity to using your nullification and severing a connection between two people was a giant leap. When Saiki didn't respond, you couldn't help the thought that came to mind. 'So if two plus two is four, and five plus five is ten, then...'

Saiki's eyes narrowed once he registered your words. 'I want you to know I only tolerate that reference because you're sick. You didn't even get it right.' You chuckled softly at his comment, ribs not yet ready for a full laugh. Lips stretching into a grin from his leniency or his last statement, you weren't sure. Your cheeks hurt, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. That was until you realised how cold you felt, shivering when goosebumps appeared over your arms.

You hadn't felt like this since childhood, but could you be surprised at your situation? Especially when it involved the world's most potent psychic to ever live. It was no surprise that the fevers you experienced as a child when Saiki was running around changing human biology with crazy hair colours would make a comeback. You went back to rest your eyes.

You were in no position to retaliate when Saiki picked you up and transported the two of you into your bedroom. The familiar feeling of your mattress helped relax your body some more.

'I'm leaving the second I can transport again.'

You said nothing as the pink-haired boy quickly tucked you under the covers and placed a cold compress on your forehead. He waited until your hand was secured to it before he backed away.

You half expected him to kiss your forehead like you had seen in all the romance manga you had read— where the female lead got sick, and the male lead took care of her. No kiss was exchanged, to your disappointment.

'Thank you.' That was all you could think of him, not knowing what other way to express your gratitude. He was silent for a bit, then he turned his back to you, and just like that, he was gone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair— what a day.

You were too busy dealing with your inner turmoil to realise that Saiki had stayed for more than three minutes.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Nothing had changed the next day at school— and you were glad for it somewhat. You had thought things between you and Saiki would be awkward.

They weren't; when he saw you that morning, all he had done was nod at you, acknowledging your existence before he turned to face the blackboard at the front of the class. You ignored your disappointment; it's not like you expected him to be your best friend or something.

When the school bell signalled the end of the academic day, you got ready to pack your things and leave. That was until you noticed a light blue-haired boy walking up to Saiki, who was in front of you, also shoving his books in his bag so he could make his getaway. Too late.

"Guess what? I've been summoned." You deadpanned at Kaidou's statement, something you were sure you picked up from Saiki. Was he rubbing off on you? Nah, no way. Not possible. "If I told you why, I'd have to kill you both."

Your expression relaxed when Kaidou's eyes met yours, and you gave him a confused smile, signalling one thing. 'I have no idea what you're on about.' You watched as the blue-haired boy puffed his chest like some peacock.

"But for now, let's just say the world's in store for some pretty big changes." With that, Kaidou waddled away like some penguin. What was with that walk, and why were his hips swaying side to side as he continued down the hallway? Shakira, es tu? PK couture, you mused to yourself— he was going for a catwalk.

"What? Did he make a friend?" Saiki asked, and you were surprised when he turned his head to the right to make eye contact with you. You looked back at him, still leaning half your body out of the classroom with your hands on the door frame. You simply shrugged your shoulders before the both of you gazed at where Kaidou had turned the corner.

When Saiki moved forward in the same direction, you took a step toward him. "Where are you going?" You asked, mind already guessing the answer. Saiki looked over his shoulder at you, "I'm going after him because I'm curious." He stated before continuing down the hallway. You decided you were too, so you followed in tow.

The two of you spotted Kaidou not long after. The light blue-haired boy walked to the doors leading to the storage room on the second floor. He whipped his head around to see if anyone else was about. You didn't expect what came next; you were caught off guard when Saiki pulled on your arm to hide the two of you behind a wall.

You saw a flash of pink before you were brought face to face with the guy's chest, and when you looked up, you realised he was staring down at you. Damn, he had a sharp jawline. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Saiki was sculpted by the likes of Micheal Angelo himself. You felt your ears burn and chose to ignore them. Why did he have to be so close, and why was he caging you against the wall?

"It'll be troublesome if he sees us," Saiki stated as he stepped away from you. You shook your head to eliminate the thoughts swirling through your mind before the two of you peered at the blue-haired boy from your hidden spot. "Thurisaz, isaz, hagalaz, sowilo, gebo, fehu." You couldn't help but think Kaidou sounded like he was summoning a demon. Was it that Jet Black Wings nonsense again?

When the door opened, the light blue-haired boy walked in. Saiki left your side and started to walk over to the door where Kaidou had been moments earlier. You followed soon after, and you strained your ears to hear what was happening in the room.

The following 5 minutes were nothing but painful. You heard two voices; one was Kiadou's, and the other, you guessed, was a student who must have been his friend.

You and Saiki listened as the blue-haired boy claimed it was hard to believe that he used to be part of the Dark Reunion before he figured out that the organisation was evil, went rogue, performed some technique when he got cornered and managed to transmigrate into Shun Kaidou's body when he was unborn.

Was this some— sort of weird realistic roleplay? Sure, having his fantasies come true through acting was nice, but you weren't sure it was a good idea to spur on his delusions. Kaidou was too far gone already. His 'friend' told him they would do anything to help Kaidou regain his memories because his power was needed.

Who was 'they'? You couldn't help but question the whole situation. Something about it felt sketchy. Kaidou seemed to have the same thought, wondering who his friend was referring to.

Apparently, there were four other phantoms in the room. It got weirder and weirder. You had to give it to both of them; you wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face if you were in there to save your life. The 'friend' claimed that if Kaidou couldn't see them, he could never help.

Kaidou jumped to try and save face, saying he could see the phantoms. What a joke. You weren't so curious anymore; now you just wanted to leave. You stopped paying attention to the conversation until you heard the 'friend' exclaim, "Stop!" followed by, "Mannaz, ingwaz, wunjo!"

Great, someone else who liked to talk in gibberish. You cringed when you heard Kaidou's friend state that the Dark Reunion had gotten into the room and killed the four phantoms. Since when could phantoms die? Wasn't all of this too much? You had to commend the 'friend' at least— for staying in character so long.

The friend stated they needed to create a barrier to protect them before telling Kaidou to place all metal objects into the bag since it would interfere. Now, things were getting interesting. When Kaidou asked if the change had to be given as well, that's when the realisation hit.

The whole thing was a scam. That kid was trying to steal all of Kaidou's money under the guise of roleplay! What was worse— was that the poor blue-haired boy believed the whole thing was real. The only thing Kaidou actually got out of the charade was losing his wallet. Poor guy didn't even get to take his train pass back. This new friend of his was pure evil.

'Good grief.' You heard Saiki think at you, 'Good grief, indeed.'

The 'friend' told Kaidou that the Jet Black Wings was a saviour and to come back at the same time tomorrow. Something about not forgetting to do the sworn ally absolution. Panic engulfed you when you heard the doorknob turn.

Looking left to right hurriedly, you barely had a chance to notice that Saiki wrapped a hand around your waist and teleported you inside the room. When your gaze refocused, you realised you were behind some sort of curtain. You had no idea why Saiki didn't decide to handle things on his own, instead opting to take you with him.

'Why couldn't you have just left me out there? I don't want to get involved—' You stopped mid-thought when Saiki looked down at you and glared. The audacity he had! To not only drag you into this mess but to shut you down when you rightfully complained? Meanie. You huffed to yourself in annoyance but stayed quiet nonetheless.

You proceeded to fold your arms over your chest, only to realise that in your exasperation, you hadn't noticed Saiki was still holding onto you. He stepped away, putting distance between you two the second the thought crossed your mind, something you tried not to be hurt over. Why? You didn't quite understand yourself.

You didn't have time to ponder anything else; the guy who scammed Kaidou stole your attention when he spoke up from behind the curtain. "That guy and his stupid fantasies are the best thing ever. He couldn't tell the absolution was my homework! All I had to do was play along with him. I even got the idiot to give me his wallet!" What a disaster. Poor Kaidou got ripped off and taken advantage of, all because of his love for make-believe.

'What a pain. Kaidou, as your one friend, I'm telling you— do a better job choosing your other friends.' The exasperation in Saiki's voice was palpable. How would you break the news to the poor blue-haired boy? That his new friend was a good-for-nothing liar.

The sad excuse of a swindler was still gushing over how he had tricked Kaidou, and you could only shake your head. Would dumping the truth work better? Or hinting at it? Saiki already had a plan in mind, you realised, as the lights turned off in the room. "What the? Who did that?" The scammer asked.

"Dark reunion."

What happened to the guy in glasses next was not spoken of after.

When Kaidou dragged the both of you to the same room the day after, saying to keep it a secret no matter what— the whole place was trashed, and the words dark reunion were plastered on the wall. The graffiti had been your handiwork.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

"Hey buddy, ready for the beach? I was walking by, and I saw the last name Saiki on the mailbox, so I figured this must be where ol' Kusuo lives." Nendou stood on the step to Saiki's household, explaining himself as he pointed at the mailbox behind him, a blow-up dolphin in his other hand. He was dressed for the day, clad in a red shirt with floral patterns and shorts.

You made eye contact with Saiki only to get a glare back. You looked off to the side, feeling like you were in trouble. 'Why are you here?' He thought at you, and what an excellent question, indeed. If only you had stayed home, Nendou wouldn't have spotted you on the streets and dragged you along for a day by the seaside. You looked to Saiki again, 'I didn't choose to come here of my own free will.'

You were still somewhat peeved that you didn't get a say in the matter. Nendou had assumed a yes from you and decided for himself that you would accompany him, dragging you by the arm down the streets of your peaceful little town. You hadn't paid much attention to where he was taking you until he neared Saiki's neighbourhood, and before you could steer him in a different direction, he noticed a name on a mailbox. The rest was history.

"Ku— Ku— Kusuo, is this your friend?" For a second, you thought Mrs Saiki was terrified of Nendou. Something you wouldn't fault her for; he did look like a gangster, after all. "He's not my friend." Saiki's comment fell on deaf ears as Mrs Saiki burst into tears, a handkerchief manifesting into her hands out of nowhere. "Oh, dear! My little boy finally has another friend! In less than a week, too— I'm so happy!"

This was definitely one of the reasons why you loved Saiki's mom; she was just too precious. "Sorry girly girl, but me and him ain't friends— we're best buddies!" Mrs Saiki started weeping into her handkerchief again, "Oh, dear! My little boy's finally getting a normal life!" You wanted to comfort her but thought better of it since she was crying tears of joy and not sadness.

"I never knew you had a sister, pal." Nendou's comment practically made Mrs Saiki putty in his hands. She gushed about how the wannabe gangster thought she was young enough to look like Saiki's sister. You couldn't tell if Nendou was buttering her up or if he was being serious. Knowing him, it was probably the latter.

'How many times is he going to make her cry?' Saiki wondered from next to you. 'At least they're tears of happiness.' A warm smile stretched on your lips; the woman needed to be protected at all costs. Movement in your peripherals broke you from your thoughts. You turned to Saiki, who was now standing beside you, looking up at him when you felt his stare out your peripherals.

His lips parted as if he was about to say something when Saiki's mom commented that Nendou taking Saiki to the beach sounded like fun. "Uh, yeah— I'm not going." The smile on Mrs Saiki's face disappeared in an instant, and the glare she shot Saiki's way sent chills down your spine. "Your best buddy went out of his way to ask you in person. You're going to the beach, Kusuo."

"Oh, dear."

A snicker fell out your lips, and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand so as to not draw attention to yourself. By then, it was too late; your plans to quietly try and slip away from the group were foiled by your own hands. Saiki's mom finally noticed you, pushing her son aside so she could hug you.

For a moment, you wondered if you could spend the afternoon with Mrs Saiki, until you caught sight of her esper son over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. You knew what that look meant, but still, he chose to invade the privacy of your mind yet again to think at you, 'Oh, no, you don't. You're coming.'

Mrs Saiki continued to gush over you, and the plan to spend a lazy day indoors seemed to be further and further away.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

That's how you and Saiki ended up going to the beach.

Kaidou had joined the group as well, a fact you pitied when you observed how much Nendou teased him about having a phobia of the sea. You watched from your seat on the blanket next to Saiki as Kaidou denied it all, fresh tears in his eyes. "N—no. Th—that's not true. I know how to swim, jerk! I—I'm not afraid of the water." You almost felt bad for him; why was he here again?

'Well, he's turned on the waterworks.' Ironic. Saiki's comment nearly made you choke on your drink, and you coughed. The psychic's hand on your back, patting lightly, surprised you, to say the least, but you welcomed it. Anything to clear your airways. You chalked up the help to him feeling guilty.

You watched as Kaidou proceeded to enter the sea, only to slip and start drowning in inch-deep water. That's when you decided the second-hand embarrassment was too much to handle, placing your drink down to stand up and walk over to the sea.

You stopped in the middle of your task, turning to Saiki, who stared you down. 'Yes, I'm leaving you here. You're on your own, nerd.' You thought at him, glancing between Saiki and his book. He stayed silent, only glaring at you over his glasses. You could tell what he was thinking already; how could you just leave him to deal with everyone else? Hah— so long, sucker!

You looked from Saiki to Hairo whose pants had slipped when he ran to save Kaidou from drowning, Nendou— who stared at the other girls on the beach with a blush and smirk on his face, then back to the psychic.

'Yeah, I'm not about to watch any more of their shenanigans; I'm out of here.'

You greeted Hairo briefly and walked towards the water in time to overhear that the red-haired boy had decided to volunteer as a lifeguard over the summer. Walking further into the water, you stopped when you couldn't feel the sand underneath your feet and started to swim further out until the voices of your classmates sounded distant enough that you couldn't make out the words.

Sighing, you floated on your back and stared up at the sun. The weather was way too warm, and you hated the heat because of how it caused you to sweat. At least now you could have some peace and quiet; your social battery had run out a while back.

The silence didn't last long, you felt a ripple in the water and opened one eye, only to realise the cause was Saiki. He sat on a blue swimming donut that had sun patterns on it. That's when you noticed he was shirtless, only wearing his yellow swimming trunks, and you tried not to stare, opting to look at the beach instead, coughing awkwardly.

You watched as a group of girls ran across the sand— Nendou not far behind, chasing them. 'I don't want people knowing I'm with him.' You had to agree with Saiki; being associated with Nendou was never a good thing. Looking away from the girls fleeing in terror on the beach, you turned back to the young esper.

'I get that— but why did you have to come here?'

'I draw less attention when I'm with you than when I'm by myself.'

'So, you're using me?'

'... Don't make it weird.'

When you made the comment, your mind had not been in the gutter, but now it certainly was. There was a brief pause before Saiki looked back at the beach. He sighed and closed his eyes— then he tilted his float sideways until his body crashed against the water. You shot up, no longer floating on your back. You kicked your legs to stay above the waves and looked around to see if you could spot Saiki who was no longer on the water donut.

'You won't find me, I'm all the way at the bottom. When I want to be alone or get some serious thinking done, I come down here. I find the seafloor relaxing.'

You jumped in your skin at the sound of his voice in your head, not yet used to hearing it without seeing him. You raised an eyebrow to yourself when your brain registered what he had said. You didn't get the chance to reply to him, the sound of Nendou shouting stealing your attention.

"Saiki! You going pee-pee?!"

'Oh man, next time, I'll have to go deeper. Better go back before they start looking.'

You stopped paying attention to what Saiki was thinking at you when you noticed a girl in the water. Was she... She was drowning!

Your body moved before you could think. The water around you splashed as you started swimming, trying to get to her as fast as you could. You heard Nendou and Kaidou in the distance. Now, hang on a minute, you swore the blue-haired boy had no idea how to swim— how had he made it this far out? As if on cue, Kaidou started drowning as well, and you watched in horror.

You relaxed somewhat when you watched Nendou save the idiot, carrying him on his back. By then, you had made it to the girl, but the other two boys were still making their way towards you. You tried to grab onto her to save her, only for her to jump on you in her panic. She clawed her way up, trying to get on your shoulders.

You realised then that both of you were screwed. "No! Don't—" You didn't get to finish your sentence as you felt your body give way under her weight, water filling your nose instantly.

You ended up underwater along with the girl, your legs spent and tired. Surely, this wasn't how things ended. You had so much left to do— so many sites to see! Your mind went into overdrive as you sank deeper.

When you felt something brush against your feet under the water, you nearly lost it; the safety of your classmates and the random girl next to you be damned!

You calmed down when you recognised the pink underneath the clear waves. 'What a pain. Everyone around me is so needy.'

Saiki placed his hands on your waist and effortlessly lifted you until your head was above water. Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and your legs started kicking lightly to keep you afloat. You looked around until your eyes landed on Nendou, who was standing on the water as if it was a solid surface, with Hairo, Kaidou and the drowning girl from earlier on his back.

"What— Nendou! You're walking on water!" Hairo exclaimed as he looked down. "When'd you learn how to do that?!" Kaidou chimed in, and you already knew the answer. It was Saiki, using his strength to lift them all so they wouldn't drown. You watched as all five four of them sped off towards the sand.

'See? I told him he'd have more luck walking on water than picking up girls.'

You snorted to yourself at Saiki's comment before tilting your body so you were on your back, letting the waves carry you as you caught your breath. You closed your eyes, exhaustion kicking in as the adrenaline ran out— only to open when you felt the water move, making you rock.

You squinted as the sun invaded your gaze, only for you to see Saiki. He turned around in the water, showing you his back, "Get on. I'll carry you to the beach." His closed statement left no room for discussion, and even if you had it in you to retort, you were too tired to argue.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, mindful not to squeeze too hard and rested your head on his warm back as he swam to shore. You tried not to pay attention to how close the two of you were or how you could feel his body heat since he didn't have a top on.

After drying off, you watched as the girl who nearly drowned you, apologised to Nendou. "Sorry I joked about how ugly your face is." She said, and you guessed it was her way of thanking him for saving her.

"Hmph, I'm glad you didn't ask for her number in return for your heroics," Kaidou said, giving the wannabe gangster a nod of approval when he returned as you packed up to leave. "Heh, I try to be a gentleman, but if that hottie fell in love with me, I'm not gonna turn her down," Nendou replied, closing his eyes as if he was proud. You had to give it to him, the man had confidence. You walked alongside Saiki as the group left Hairo and the girl.

"She wouldn't," Kaidou whispered under his breath, a smirk on his face. Nendou whipped his head around to shout at him. "What'd you say?!"

The day at the beach ended, and you could finally go home.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

bonus:

After the four of you got back in town, Nendou and Kaidou split off so they could head home. Truth be told, that was the plan for you as well until Saiki stopped you.

"Do you want to come back to my house?" You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow at him at the suggestion. You were sure he thought of you as a nuisance like everyone else, yet here he was— inviting you to his place.

"Don't get any weird ideas. Mom told me to bring you back for dinner. She likes having you around." Mrs Saiki hadn't specifically told him to bring you back, but Saiki did know that she liked your company.

A small smile graced your face at the sentiment. Being liked by someone else's parents was a different type of validation. You shrugged and walked beside him back to the Saiki Household, the day not yet over.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - anemoia (coming soon!)

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

2025 taglist:

@too-many-fandoms666 @nikolaisfingersinfyodorsmouth @crescent-bluemoon @beehoppingaround @budijojo @shrewbles @art-missy @zenmiren

comment below to be added <3

#saiki x reader #kusuo x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki kurumi #shun kaidou #nendou riki #hairo kineshi #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k.#friends to lovers #x reader

528 notes · View notes

wintaerbaer · 1 year ago

Text

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.”

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso.

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

5K notes · View notes

13lov · 2 years ago

Text

tethered. | jjk

Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayel (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!jk, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. really love this pairings and would love to have drabbles with them in the future, so pls lmk if u guys would be interested in that! thanks for all the love on the teaser, hope u enjoy! <3

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker

Jeon Somi isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Jungkook is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Jungkook very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Somi for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Somi, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Somi delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Somi knows Jungkook won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Somi if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Jungkook's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

When you turn to leave, Jungkook stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Somi is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Jungkook to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Jungkook interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Jungkook definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Jungkook hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Somi you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Somi posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Jungkook posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Jungkook farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Jungkook responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Jungkook's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Somi brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Jungkook on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Jungkook's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Somi (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Jungkook was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Jungkook finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Somi moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Somi for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

Some of you have debated telling Somi about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Somi has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Somi looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Somi has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Somi even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Somi would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Somi questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Somi pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Somi suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Jungkook. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

Panicked, you reach for Somi's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Somi towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Somi squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Somi throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Jungkook steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Somi's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Jungkook looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Somi, you wait with her in the hallway until Jungkook arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Somi protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Somi is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Jungkook says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Somi glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Jungkook, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Somi to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Jungkook scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Somi nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Jungkook is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Somi mumbles, barely able to look Jungkook in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Somi glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Jungkook flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Somi shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Jungkook's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Somi asks the exact question you had.

Jungkook shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Somi exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Somi questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Jungkook says he's taking the two of you home. Somi, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Somi is really good at getting what she wants, or if Jungkook was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Jungkook scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Jungkook! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Jungkook just reffered to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Jungkook had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Somi has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Somi," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Somi is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Jungkook's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Somi gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

Somi snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Jungkook? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Somi gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Jungkook's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Somi shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

You go to respond, but Jungkook, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Somi opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Jungkook calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Somi more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Somi and Jungkook bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Jungkook even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Jungkook parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Somi questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Jungkook turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Somi points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Jungkook had in her.

You turn to go, but Jungkook's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Jungkook shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Jungkook because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Somi, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Somi shushes you, gesturing that Jungkook is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Jungkook genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Jungkook resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Jungkook humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Somi was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Mingyu, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Jungkook does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Jungkook. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Jungkook, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Somi get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Somi is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

Somi clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Jungkook strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Somi wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Somi makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Somi bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Jungkook's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Somi wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Somi if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Jungkook directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Jungkook's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Jungkook raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Jungkook looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Jungkook asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Jungkook on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Jungkook can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

"Jungkook…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Jungkook doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

You curse under your breath, and Jungkook makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Jungkook is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Jungkook.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Jungkook catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Jungkook was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

Jungkook must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Jungkook nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Jungkook picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Jungkook finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Jungkook in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Somi will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Jungkook awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Jungkook reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Jungkook had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Somi you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Jeon sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Somi finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

#bts #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scnenario #jungkook smut #kpop imagine #kpop smut #kpop scenario

7K notes · View notes

abyssyby · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Loved your most recent fic with our favorite family, it was so angsty but so good! I wonder if this is gonna make it even harder for the boys to say goodbye to Sylus before he goes off on a mission (and maybe even their mom when she has to travel for work too). Like, we've already seen it was tough before, but it was more of a "I'm gonna miss you" sadness but now that they've been on a mission themselves it's like, "Missions are NOT fun, they're scary, please don't go😭"

hello!!! thank you for reading two birds on a wire 🥺 genuinely one of my most favorite stories i’ve written so far so i feel incredibly blessed and i appreciate each and every reply on it 💕 — yes, the twins are definitely more reluctant to let papa go now since they know what’s in store for him on his ‘ishuns (missions).

kyros would be very time conscious. well, firstly, he’d be holding onto papa’s legs and sobbing by the door (if sy had a difficult time leaving then, he’s definitely suffering now). he’d be sobbing and begging him to stay—

“five mimits!” he doesn't know what minutes are. but sylus has stayed for 4 ‘five mimits’ now, so he’s convinced they mean ‘stay’.

his voice is squeeze out of his throat, small and pitchy, begging desperately, “five— five mimits, papa, pease! pease!”

sylus has to drag his leg all the way to the door, and take an extra ten minutes to soothe kyros in his arms before promising he’ll call or be back at a certain time.

Kyros has mephisto tap on a gentle tinking bell to let him know the time, and eventually learns how to read big hand and small hand on the antique grandfather clock. you find him sometimes staring up at it, and when he spots you or the big twins passing by, he points up and asks, “time? what time?”

“just a little bit more,” you’d tell him, knowing the time sylus is supposed to call too.

“much more?”

“hmm, about three songs, angel.”

so he waddles over to the record player, asks you to help him put on sylus’s CDs and counts. by the end of the third classical song he’s listened to, he uncovers his ears (the last song ended with loud trumpets) and runs to the house phone/holo-caller, where sylus’s holographic face pops up.

sylus’s heart melts when Kyros or both Kyros and Lucian’s big eyes fill up his screen as the call goes through.

“papa, come home now.”

“one sleep, angel.”

kyros definitely gets huffy puffy. snuffing through his nose like an angry little dragon and stomping his little feet in disapproval. “don’t want sleep!”

“then how will it be morning?”

kyros’s brows knit together at that. sylus watches the gears turn behind his eyes. and then, softer, more hopeful— “i sleep now, papa. i make morning.”

sylus grins, cleverly cocky and effectively charmed. “good night, turtle.”

when kyros wakes, papa is always back home. either lifting him out of his bed or waiting for him by the fireplace. kyros walks up to him quietly, climbs on his lap, lays sleepily on his chest and listens to his heart. he feels much better now.

lucian is action-driven— anxiety manifested in mischief and pranks.

little pranks, essentially harmless in nature, but it effectively causes sylus delays.

"lucian?" sylus calls, voice loud but not angry. more amused.

lucian emerges from the hallway, hands behind his back. bright red eyes round and ‘innocent’. "papa?"

"did you put butter in my shoes?" he grimaces, eyeing his slippery stained socks.

"oopsie— AAA papa, no run you slip!" Lucian is giggling, sylus has phased before him and picked him up. blowing raspberries in his cheeks and nuzzling his nose to his ticklish neck. "papa!"

sylus loses all sorts of things the minute he’s set to leave. until he follows the trail of animal cracker crumbs/plastic cars/paper stars where he finds lucian tucking them away under his pillows, into his pants or in mephisto's treasure piles.

sylus confronts him about it when he gets chocolate fingerprints on an important document. with a stronger voice, exasperated and tired, he lifts lucian up by the back of his shirt just as he runs away.

lucian is already teary as sylus sets him in the crook of his elbow. "i sorry, i sorry!"

but sylus can't find it in himself to truly be mad. instead he keeps up the front (very difficultly) and scolds lucian. and then when he gets his points across, he brushes the tears away from his eyes and kisses his brows. "why are you being naughty?"

lucian is sniffling, hugging sylus around the neck, seeking forgiveness. "don't want papa— don't want papa go—"

"you can just ask me, angel." sylus says sympathetically, fingers pushing sweaty bangs away from his forehead. he presses his forehead against lucian's. "just ask, i will listen."

"you say no."

sylus's heart aches. "not always."

"yes always!" lucian says, angry little fists coming down onto sylus's chest with no real force. but sylus feels the frustration spear into his heart nonetheless. "papa go— papa go to scary mishins!"

"Lucian, I—"

"Papa will died! Fly and fall and died!" he yells. devastated, traumatized, upset. he'd been the one with his eyes peeking out his shirt during the crash landing, he'd been the one who saw the strain in sylus's eyes and the grinding teeth when he held them and yelled at his pilots during the mission. "I don't want papa died!"

Sylus squeezes his eyes shut as he accepts the soft blows of anguish loaded fists. enduring, he presses his forehead against the little boy's to calm him. "Shh... shh..."

something in lucian snaps, his voice breaks and he collapses against sylus's shoulder in sad sobs. "i scared, papa. please stay, please."

sylus feels the weight on the corners of his lips as he teeters to tears himself. he nods then, sighing in defeat. although, he was fairly certain that even without the tears, without the pranks, sylus would always find a way to say yes.

"Alright now, alright," he shushes, rocking him side to side and planting a kiss to his wet nose. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

"Papa—" Lucian cries. Just that— papa, papa, papa— over and over, like he'd been running from a monster. Now seeking refuge, comfort, and safety in him.

Sylus clicks his tongue, swallowing repeatedly keeping himself from crying still. He rubs lucian's heaving back, drawing slow circles to match with his breath. He hums a tune into his temple, letting his broken melody aid his fluttering heart.

It won't be easy, it will never be easy, leaving home. But he swears, he will do everything to make it easier for Lucian. And if that means staying for tonight, then he will stay.

—

this got away from me again hehe thank you for sending in this ask, reading & thinking about the twin babies! have a wonderful, wonderful day, anonnie!

✧˚ ⋆｡ read two birds on a wire here | read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

518 notes · View notes

immaqulate · 28 days ago

Text

stay inside | c.s

— chris sturniolo x fem! reader

— warnings: smut, suggestive, intense sexual tension, possessive language, breeding kink (implied), soft dominance vibes, lots of touching and begging

you wear his shirt, he wants to wear you out.

requested by anon! | word count: 614 | proofread by @blushsturns | part 2 here

You weren't expecting him to follow you into the bedroom that fast, but maybe you should've known better.

You'd barely turned on the lamp, that soft, golden one on the nightstand when you felt him behind you. The door shut with a click. You heard the sound of his rings clink as he pulled them off and set them on the dresser, slowly. deliberate, like he was preparing.

"That shirt's real short on you, baby," Chris rasped behind you, voice wrecked from the night, low and hot in your ear. "That for me?"

You turned slowly, the oversized tee barely grazing your thighs. It was his, obviously, grey, worn in, with a faded logo and a neckline stretched from how often you tugged on it over your head when you miss him. But he'd never seen it like this. Not with you hair messy, your thighs bare, or your eyes asking for trouble.

Chris steps closer. "You know what that does to me?" He took your face gently in his hands, thumbs dragging over your cheekbones. His gaze burned right through you. "You don't even have to say anything. You look at me like that, and I lose my fucking mind"

You barely whispered his name before he kissed you, deep, slow, his body already pressing you back towards the bed. He kissed like he was telling a secret, like the more his mouth moved against yours, the more you'd understand just how far gone he was for you.

You were breathless when you hit the mattress. He pulled back just long enough to look at you, sprawled, flushed, chest rising and falling beneath that shirt and smirked. "Bet you already know what I'm thinking."

His hand slid down, dragging the hem of the shirt up over your hips. "I wanna take my time with you tonight." His thumbs brushed your inner thigh just enough to make you twitch. "I wanna feel you. Every inch.. And then?" His lips were at your ear again when he says. "I wanna stay." Your legs clenched.

"I wanna bury myself into you so deep, baby, you don't forget what I feel like for days"

He kissed you again, slower this time, groaning into your mouth when your hips arched into his touch. He guided his hand down to where you needed him most, palm resting there, possessive and warm.

"So wet already," he murmured, like it hurt him. "You don't even know what you're doing to me, huh?"

You whimpered when he pressed down ever so slightly. His hand was big, his grip even firmer, but he was still waiting. Still making you wait.

"I know you want it. You're not fooling me" Chris kissed your collarbone now, mouthing at your skin like he was leaving a trail of silent promises. "Tell me you want it, princess."

"Want what?" you whispered, teasing even as your thighs trembled.

His laugh was soft, yet dangerous. "You know" He pulled back to meet your gaze, eyes dark and unrelenting. "You want me to fill you."

Your breath hitched. "Don't you?" His thumb rubbed slow, dangerous circles on your inner thigh. "Want me to stay in you. Want me to make sure it takes."

You could barely breathe. He kissed you again, rougher this time. His voice in your ear made your whole body burn. "One day, Baby," he whispered, "I'm gonna give it to you. I'm gonna fill you so deep you'll feel me for weeks. Gonna watch you swell with me. Watch you carry what we made"

You whimpered again, nails digging into his arms. He groaned into your skin. "Say the word, and I'll make it happen tonight."

this fun was so fun to write! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated ❤️ if you have any requests please submit them to my inbox! love you all, thanks

click here to be added to my taglist and here for masterlist <3

taglist ✎ @chrisissobabygirl @sturnzwrld @strnilolover @sweetshuga @mattslilies @sirensdollesque @slxtarchive @heartsonlyforchris @sturns-mermaid @bluessturniolo @pasteldreams @endereies @solarsturniolo @drewswife @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @ivytthew @blushsturns @surprisecurlyfriess @mazzystarrysky @eclipsturns @riasturns @mattsgirl4ever @elisesturnz @ribbonlovergirl @chrisslut04 @pair-of-pantaloons @obxfansstuff @poppetbaby02 @bgfshai @kalel2005 @scorpio1205 @beelaaaaa @backwardshatnick @maiaaalovesyou @sophsturns @michele-sturns @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @emely9274 @kayskreativeideas @idksturn @bbgirlmatt @v33angel @kenah-sturniolo @2prettyysturniolo @mattsturnsgirlie @neimacodm @whimsylrum

#immaqulate writes ─ .✦#immaqulate!.࿐#requested!⋆✴︎˚｡⋆#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #chris smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo au #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic

408 notes · View notes

always-just-red · 1 year ago

Note

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a��”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, okay? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, okay?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, okay? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, okay?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

2K notes · View notes

cowboybeepboop · 11 months ago

Text

Lovesick

"You don't have to beg, princess," he mutters gruffly in your ear. "I'll touch you as much as you want."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 8k

Summary: Storm chasing with Scott turns into a night of passion.

Warnings: P in V sex, no protection, soft Scott

a/n: Tbh this is really similar to the first Scott oneshot I posted 😭 I just really like the idea of Scott w/ a soft spot for reader. Also I’m currently working on a request but please feel free to message/send requests my way if you have any

Scott is your *most* annoying storm par colleague, you get along with the rest of the team just fine. In fact they all really enjoy your company, but Scott? He’s just such a dick.

Scott has never been one for social graces, his charm as rough as the storms he chases. Yet, every time he tries to get under your skin with a snide remark or a deliberate shove, you respond with a gentle touch or a soft laugh that seems to disarm him completely. You're the one person who can cut through his tough exterior with ease, and he hates it.

But as he takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving your frame, he knows he can't stay away. You're the puzzle he can't solve, the riddle wrapped in a mystery, and it's driving him mad. But he's also painfully aware that every time he pushes you away with his cruel words and harsh actions, he's losing a little more of you, a piece of the very thing he craves. And that, more than anything, is what keeps him coming back.

”Hey Scott,” you smile at him, setting your coffee on the table across from him. “Can I sit with you?” Scott looks at you for a moment before taking another sip of his coffee, his gaze lingering on yours as if he’s studying you. He lets out a small sigh before responding.

”Yeah, sure.” He motions for you to sit, his tone a mixture of reluctant acceptance and a hint of irritation. The air between the two of you is tense, a mixture of lingering annoyance and the ever present spark of attraction.

”Thank you,” your smile widens as you sit down, taking a small drink of your latte as you look at his cold face. Scott watches you closely as you settle into the seat across from him, his expression remaining aloof and unreadable. The tension between you is palpable, but there's also a flicker of something else in his eyes that he's trying to hide.

As you sip your latte, he can't help but notice the way your lips wrap around the rim of the cup and the small noise of contentment you make. His fingers drum impatiently on the table, betraying his uneasy exterior.

”So, do you know where we’re gonna chase today?” You set the cup down, looking out the window admiring the morning sky. Scott leans back in his seat, his gaze following yours out the window. He takes a moment to reply, his tone slightly less gruff than usual.

”Probably the outskirts of Tornado Alley. The weather report is predicting a major storm system moving through the area by mid-afternoon. Might be a good one to chase.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but his eyes dart to you for a brief second before shifting back to the window. The storm is brewing inside him, just like the one outside.

“Sounds great!” You reply with a cheery tone, shifting your eyes back to Scott's face. Scott’s jaw clenches and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

Your cheerfulness is both intriguing and infuriating. He can’t stand how easily you can flip a switch from serious storm chaser to cheerful chatterbox. “Don’t get too excited,” he replies gruffly. “Storm chasing isn’t all fun and games.”

“Well I’m not too excited,” you reply with a laugh, “But it’s good we know where we’re headed for the day.” Your attention is drawn to Javi, who just walked into the cafe, you smile at him with a wave.

Scott’s eyes flick to Javi, and for a brief moment he frowns at the sight of the other man. He’s particularly annoyed by the way you greet him with such warmth and ease.

He takes a sip of his coffee, his tone betraying a hint of annoyance. ”Yeah, it’s good we know where we’re headed. Can focus on prepping the van instead of worrying about wasting our time.” Your eyes flick back to him.

“That’s true, we can get off track sometimes.” you stand up grabbing your cup, “I’m gonna go talk to Javi, I'll see you later Scott.” Your hair bounces with your step as you walk up to your friend. He grabs your coffee and takes a sip before cringing and handing it back to you, saying it's too sweet.

Scott watches you walk away, his eyes lingering on your every move. The sight of you and Javi talking and laughing together only serves to stoke the fire within him. He watches as Javi takes a sip of your coffee, wincing at the sweetness before handing the cup back to you. Scott can’t help but smirk to himself, thinking of how your taste in coffee is as sickly sweet as your personality.

You laugh at something Javi says, your hand falls to his arm squeezing it with your giggle. Scott's jaw clenches as he watches your hand on Javi's arm. The casual familiarity between the two of you ignites a spark of jealousy within him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the pang of irritation in his chest as he watches the two of you banter and laugh. Javi smooths down the top of your hair earning a sweet grin from you, he pats your hip before he walks over to Scott.

Scott's eyes follow Javi as he walks over, his irritation still evident. He takes a nonchalant sip of his coffee as he awaits whatever is coming next.

"What’s up?" he mutters, his tone gruff and guarded.

Javi smiles, “Hey man we’re gonna head out in ten, so finish your coffee, or do whatever else you need.” He smiles at Scott, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Scott eyes Javi's hand on his shoulder with a mixture of annoyance and acceptance. He knows he can't argue with the order, even if the touch feels like a bit of a jab at his loner tendencies.

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbles, taking a final sip of his coffee. "I'll be ready." You bound over to them interrupting the awkward conversation.

”Hey boys, want any drinks for the road? My treat!” Scott's irritation is momentarily pushed aside by your sudden appearance. He is reminded of your presence when your hand brushes his arm, a brief but distinct touch that sends a small shiver through him.

He glances at you with surprise before responding gruffly. "Uh...sure. Just a black coffee."

Javi grins at you, always enjoying your friendly nature. "Actually, I’d appreciate a sweet tea if you’re getting drinks."

“Iced?” You question, Javi responds with a nod. “Okay, got it. I’ll meet you both outside.”

You hand them their drinks, “Hey, Y/N why don’t you ride with Scott today?” Javi flashes him a smirk.

“Yeah, of course.” You reply, Scott's eyes widen slightly at Javi's suggestion, his heart dropping into his stomach. He hadn't expected to be saddled with your presence for the entire ride, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to it.

Scott lets out a low grumble of protest, but Javi's grin only widens, clearly enjoying the situation he's put Scott in.

“Great!” he says with a clap, “Have fun, you two.”

”Would you like to drive?” You turn your attention over to Scott. His grumble turns into a frown, his annoyance evident in his expression. He glances at you, his eyes narrowing as he processes your question.

"Why wouldn’t I want to drive?" he mutters, crossing his arms. "You probably drive like a grandma anyway." You laugh at his response, opening the truck door and sliding in.

Scott watches as you slide into the vehicle, amused by your cheerful nature in spite of his grumpy demeanor. He lets out a low sigh and walks around to the driver's side, getting in and starting up the truck.

He checks the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of you in the passenger's seat. He can't help but notice how the sunlight hits your face, illuminating your features in a soft, flattering glow.

You notice Scott’s look and your hand subconsciously goes to your face, “What’s up? Do I have something on my face?”

Scott's eyes dart back to the road, silently cursing himself for being caught in the act. He clears his throat and mutters a quick "No, nothing's wrong."

He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he tries to dismiss it as a reaction to the sun shining through the windshield.

"Just checking you weren’t falling asleep over there,” he adds gruffly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

”Well, you don’t have to worry about that, I’m 100% awake.” You face him with your lips curving up. Scott glances over at you as you speak, his own lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

He does his best to hide it, but the sight of your curved lips and the lilt in your voice only serves to soften his gruff exterior even further. "Yeah, I can see that," he murmurs, his voice gruff but less guarded than usual. "You're like a hyperactive Energizer bunny."

”You’re funny sometimes, I mean when you want to be.” you laugh softly before turning your attention to the road ahead of you. “But why are you so grumpy all the time?” You ask.

Scott's eyebrows furrow at your question, his jaw clenching for a moment as if you've hit a sore spot. He lets out a low sigh, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel for a brief moment before loosening again.

"I'm not grumpy all the time," he mutters, the gruffness in his voice betraying the slight defensiveness in his tone. "I just don’t see the point in being all cheerful and upbeat like you all the time."

You look over at him with an awkward smile, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Scott lets out another sigh, his expression softening slightly as he senses your unease. He glances at you, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment before going back to the road.

"You didn’t offend me," he mutters, his tone a little less gruff than before. "It’s just... I don’t understand how you do it, that’s all. You’re always so cheerful and friendly, even when things get rough."

“It’s easy,” you turn to him with a shrug, “People tend to return the energy, anyway.” Scott listens to your explanation, his mind racing to process your words. He takes a moment before responding, his tone still gruff but less than before.

"I guess that makes sense," he mutters grudgingly. "I’m just not the type to put on a mask or fake being cheerful for the sake of others. I like to keep things straightforward and blunt."

”Are you saying I do?” You question, becoming slightly defensive. Scott senses the sudden change in your tone, surprised by the defensive edge in your voice. His eyebrows furrow again as he tries to backpedal.

"No, that's not what I meant," he hastens to clarify. "I didn’t say you were. I just...I don’t understand how you’re always so positive, that’s all." You burst into laughter.

”Lighten up, I’m just messing with you,” You shove his shoulder gently, “I know what you meant.” Scott’s eyes widen at your playful shove, surprised by the unexpected physical contact. He can feel his heart rate spike momentarily before he reigns it back in. He shoots you a quick glare, but there’s no real heat behind it.

“You little…” he mutters, shaking his head. “Don’t go shoving me while I’m driving.” You giggle, your hand sliding down his arm as you look ahead to the tornado you’re following.

Scott's heart skips a beat at the feeling of your hand sliding down his arm. It's a small but unexpectedly intimate gesture that sends a shiver through him. He stares out the windshield, trying to focus on the storm in front of them, but part of his mind is preoccupied with the warmth of your touch still lingering on his skin.

He swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he speaks. "So, uh...how does this one look to you?" You smile at him, your eyes twinkling a bit

”You usually don’t care what I think about the storms,” Scott's expression hardens as he glances at you, his heart thudding in his chest at the sight of your smile. He isn't sure what's come over him, but he finds himself strangely drawn to your bright attitude.

He lets out a soft huff, acknowledging your observation. "I guess I don’t usually ask," he murmurs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "But I figure since we’re stuck together for this drive, I might as well take your opinion into account."

”Well, I think we’re gonna get some good data. The conditions are looking really great and it looks like the cap is about to break soon,” you say while peering out the window.

Scott nods, his eyes flickering from you to the storm ahead of the car. He can’t help but be impressed by your enthusiasm and knowledge, even though he’d never admit it out loud.

"Yeah, you’re probably right," he concedes, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Looks like things are falling into place for a good chase."

You grasp his thigh roughly, “Scott watch out for the truck!” you say urgency in your voice as another storm chaser cuts in front of you.

Scott's eyes widen at your sudden outburst, immediately snapping back to the road. He jerks the wheel as the other storm chaser cuts him off, swearing under his breath as he struggles to avoid a collision.

"What the hell is that idiot doing?" he growls, his heart racing from the near miss. "Do they not know how to drive?" Your hand relaxes, but stays on his leg.

”Here, speed up, you have room to pass them on the right.” You point toward the road in front of you.

Scott takes a couple calming breaths as his heart rate begins to slow, silently thanking you for your quick thinking. He glances over at you and notices your hand on his leg, the weight of it sending a slight shiver through him.

He does as you suggest, quickly accelerating and maneuvering his way around the truck. He lets out a sigh of relief as they pass it without any further issues. "Thanks," he mutters gruffly. "Good eye."

Your hand moves up his thigh as you relax into your seat, “That almost gave me a fucking heart attack.” Realizing your hand was still on him, you pull it away. “Oh uh sorry about that.” You smile.

Scott feels a pang of disappointment as your hand slides away from his thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in its path. He secretly wishes you had left it there, but doesn’t comment on it.

He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to hide the effect your touch has on him.

"Uh... it’s fine," he mutters, his voice a little huskier than usual. "Just glad we missed that idiot." Javi gives him instructions on where to go, Scott turns into the directed area.

You and Scott set up the panel according to Javi's instructions, his mind still lingering on the brief moment when you had your hand on his thigh. It's the most physical contact you've ever initiated with him, and he can't stop thinking about the sensation of your touch.

As the tornado appears in front of you both, your eyes light up with wonder, and Scott finds himself watching you more than the storm itself. He's never seen you so enchanted, and he can't help but be endeared by your passion.

Scott watches as the storm approaches, its ominous presence growing larger and darker. He suddenly feels the need to protect you, his instincts kicking into overdrive.

"Y/N, get back in the truck," he barks out, his voice urgent. "It's getting too close." You follow his instruction, quickly getting in and buckling.

Once you're safely inside, Scott rushes to the driver's door and jumps in. He shuts the door behind him and starts the engine back up, the sound of the storm battering the outside of the truck growing louder.

He glances over at you, making sure you're buckled in and safe. There's a hint of worry in his eyes, but he tries to play it off.

"You okay?" he grumbles, his voice betraying a hint of concern. He pulls off into the road, quickly driving toward safety.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft on me Scott,” you tease with a sweet grin. Scott scowls at your teasing comment, his grumpiness coming back in full force. He grumbles under his breath and focuses his attention back on the road.

"I'm not getting soft," he mutters gruffly, his voice trying to mask the slight tinge of defensiveness. "I just don't want you getting hurt, that's all."

”Aha! You totally are getting soft, when was the last time you worried about me getting hurt.” You exclaim with giggle, “but yes I’m fine.”

Scott's scowl deepens, his ego bruised by your teasing. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, partly from annoyance and partly from the truth behind your words.

"I... I was worried you'd get blown away," he tries to sound gruff, but the hint of admission in his tone gives him away. He can't deny his growing attachment to you, but he'll be damned if he ever admits it out loud.

”Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t like to see me get blown away,” you smile at him.

Scott huffs, a mixture of annoyance and amusement flickering in his eyes. He can't deny that the thought of you being away from him is slightly appealing, but he also can't help the pang of protectiveness he feels towards you.

"It'd be quiet for a change, that's for sure," he mutters gruffly, his lips twitching into a reluctant half-smile. Your smile falters as you notice his small one, I mean does he really hate your company that much?

Scott notices the small flicker of hurt in your expression and immediately regrets his words. He didn’t mean for it to sound quite so callous, but his gruff demeanor often led him to say things without fully thinking them through.

He realizes the implication of his comment and quickly tries to salvage the situation. "I was just kidding, you know," he mutters gruffly. "I don’t actually want you blown away."

”Yeah of course, I know that,” you regain your usual composure. “Should we go back to the motel? To meet Javi there…” your voice trails off as you try to change the subject.

Scott nods, sensing your desire to change the subject. He knows he's said the wrong thing, but he's not quite sure how to fix it. Instead, he focuses on what he's good at: driving.

"Yeah, that’s a good idea," he mutters gruffly. "Javi’s probably waiting for us back at the motel. Let’s get going." You yawn, deciding to pretend to sleep in order to avoid the awkwardness.

Scott notices your yawn and your intentional attempt to avoid conversation. He realizes that you're trying to escape the uneasy atmosphere that he himself had created.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his gruff demeanor softening, “I… I didn’t actually mean what I said back there, you know. I was just messing around.”

”Yes, I know” you grumble, “I think I’m just tired..” Scott notices the way you wrap your arms around yourself, a clear sign that you're still bothered by his earlier comment, even if you won't admit it.

He pulls into the parking lot, turning to look at you. "Look at me and tell me what's really bothering you," he demands, his voice gruff but softened by a hint of concern. You close your eyes stubbornly to avoid looking at him.

“I don’t know, Scott. You really didn’t do anything,” you sigh, Scott huffs in frustration as you stubbornly keep your eyes closed, refusing to really talk to him.

He reaches out and gently pries your eyelids open, demanding that you look at him. "Bullshit," he growls. "You're not fooling anyone. You're pissed at me, even if you won't admit it. Just tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours, dammit."

Your hand reaches up to his wrist, holding on softly. “I’m not pissed at you Scott.” You open one eye peeking at him, “I guess it's just… I don’t mean to bother you with my talking. Even though you didn’t mean it, it just stung a little.”

Scott's expression softens as he looks at you, your hand lightly gripping his wrist. He can feel the hurt in your words, and it hits him harder than he'd like to admit.

"You don't bother me," he mutters, his voice losing some of its gruff edge. "I was just being a jackass, as usual. I didn't mean what I said. You know that, right?”

”I know you didn’t mean it,” you reluctantly open your eyes, “you’re a big sweetie at heart, but I won't share your little secret.” Your smile returns to your lips as your hand slides down his muscular forearm.

Scott's heart rate spikes at the feel of your hand tracing down his forearm. He tries to mask his reaction, but a small shiver betrays him.

He lets out a grumble, pretending to be annoyed by your comment, “I'm not a sweetie. I'm tough as nails.

”Scott?” You lean closer to him, his breath hitches as you lean closer to him. He can smell your scent, and he suddenly becomes very aware of the small distance between you.

He swallows hard, his gruff exterior faltering for a moment. "Yeah?" he mutters, his voice a little hoarser than usual. You move his hand from your chin to your shoulder.

”Do you have a soft spot for me?” Your voice is gentle, Scott's heart thuds in his chest as you guide his hand to your shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath as he feels the warmth of your skin under his palm.

He looks at you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of vulnerability and gruffness. He wants to deny your question, to maintain his tough exterior, but the truth is undeniable.

"Maybe," he mutters gruffly, his voice just above a whisper. "Maybe I do. So what?" Your smile turns into a small smirk as you guide his hand to your chest, over your heart.

”I have a soft spot for you too..” you murmur, Scott's breath catches in his throat as he can feel the rapid beat of your heart underneath his palm, a tangible sign of your own vulnerability.

His gruff demeanor falters for a moment as he looks at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"You do?" he mutters, his voice a little hoarser than usual, your cheeks flush.

”Can’t you tell that I do?” You lean closer, Scott's gaze flickers down to your lips as you lean closer, his heart racing rapidly. The proximity between you is dangerous, and he feels a mixture of vulnerability and desire.

He swallows hard, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "I... I didn't think you felt that way about me," he mutters gruffly. "You could have anyone you wanted, why me?"

”I don’t know about that..” you say with surprise in your voice, Scott's brow furrows in confusion, his gruff exterior faltering again.

"What do you mean, you don't know about that?" he mutters, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of genuine surprise. "You could have any man you wanted. You're intelligent, charming, and..."

He trails off, swallowing hard as his gaze linger on your lips. “Any man that I wanted?” You hum, his heart rate spikes as you question his words. He can see the playful gleam in your eyes, and he can sense that you're testing him.

"Yeah," he mutters gruffly, his voice rougher than usual. "Any man at all. You could have your pick. So why would you..."

He lets the sentence hang in the air, the implication clear. “What can I say, I like the chase,” you tease, his gruff exterior faltering even more. The thought of you 'chasing' after him makes his stomach flip with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

He tries to maintain his composure, but he can't help the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. "The chase, huh?"

You lean in to give him a soft peck, he’s caught off guard by your move, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets out a soft, guttural sound as he feels the warmth of your lips against his.

"You've been driving me crazy for weeks." he mutters gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of desire.

”And yet I was the one who had to make the first move” you murmur against his lips, giving him another peck. Scott's fingers dig into your hips, his body instinctively pulling you closer, craving more of your touch.

Your words, whispered against his lips, send a wave of desire through him, erasing any pretense of indifference. "You... You are a goddamn tease," he growls, his voice thick with longing.

You pull away and slip out of the truck, Scott's eyes widen in surprise as you slip away from him, a pang of disappointment mixed with confusion. He follows you out of the truck, a mixture of desire and frustration etched on his face.

"Where are you going?" he demands gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of desperation.

”To your room, so don’t make me wait too long.” You turn to look back at him with a smirk.

Scott's eyes widen at your words, a mixture of surprise and excitement passing over his face. He stands there for a moment, processing what you've just said. Then, a sly, cocky smile spread across his lips. "You'd better not be screwing with me," he mutters gruffly, taking a step towards you.

”Well… maybe if you play your cards right we can do a little screwing..” you bite your lip as you turn to him, your back against his room door.

Scott's heart rate spikes at your suggestive words and the sight of you leaning against his door. He closes the distance between you, his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, trapping you against the door.

"You're damn right we will," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "But first, I need to know one thing."

”And what’s that?” You look up at him, your hand pressing to his chest. Scott leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his body pressed tightly against yours. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and it's taking every ounce of his willpower not to lose control right then and there.

"Is this... Is this real? Or are you just playing some kind of game?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his voice is undeniable, as if he's letting you see a side of him that he doesn't let just anyone see.

”Scott,” you say his name firmly, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “Why would I play with you?” Your thumb runs over his cheekbone. “This is real, all of it.”

Scott feels your touch on his cheek, and it sends a wave of emotion through him. The sight of your earnest expression, coupled with the soothing touch of your thumb, melts away any doubts he may have had.

Scott shakes himself out of his thoughts and fishes in his pocket for the key. He inserts the key into the lock and twists, opening the door and stepping aside to let you in.

He follows you inside, closing and locking the door behind him. The room is small and dimly lit, with a queen size bed taking up most of the space.

You reach out for his arm pulling him to you. He stumbles slightly, surprised by the strength in your pull. He stands before you, his body inches from yours, his eyes locked on yours. You capture his lips in a heated kiss.

Scott's thoughts are cut off as your lips crash against his in a hungry, heated kiss. His eyes widen in surprise, but it only takes a moment for his instincts to take over. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him as he returns the kiss with equal intensity.

He groans against your lips, his grip on you tight and possessive as he loses himself in the moment, you press your fingertips into his waist. Scott lets out a low growl, his body shuddering at the feeling of your fingertips on his skin. He looks at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and frustration.

You press a kiss to his jaw. Scott's eyes flutter closed momentarily at the feel of your lips on his jaw. The touch is gentle and yet it sends a wave of heat through him. He lets out a gruff huff, his grip on your waist tightening as he tries to hold onto his composure.

You kiss his Adam’s apple, your hand sliding up his abs through his shirt. Scott's breath hitches at the feel of your lips on his skin, his body reacting with a mix of pleasure and longing. Your hand on his abs makes his muscles tense, his body instinctively arching into your touch.

He groans deeply, his resistance weakening as you continue to press kisses to his sensitive skin. "Damn it," he mutters gruffly, his voice strained. "You really know how to drive a man wild, don't you?"

”Scott..” you murmur against his neck, Scott's body trembles at the sound of his name on your lips. The feeling of your warm breath on his neck sends a shiver down his spine, awakening every nerve ending.

He closes his eyes, his head tilting back slightly as he mutters your name in response, his voice thick with longing. "Yeah, princess?"

”Sit down,” you reply softly. Scott's eyes open, the command in your voice catching him off guard. He looks at you, a mixture of surprise and curiosity on his face.

"Sit down?" he echoes gruffly, his confusion evident.

”Mhmm” you draw out, despite his surprise, Scott finds himself obeying your command, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He looks up at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he waits to see what you'll do next.

"I'm sitting," he mutters gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of anticipation. "Now what?"

”You're like a puppy,” you tease with a giggle. Scott's jaw muscles clench at your comment, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Did you just compare me to a puppy?" he grumbles gruffly. But despite his gruff exterior, there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He can't help but find your teasing endearing, even if he'd never admit it out loud.

You start slowly unbuttoning your shirt “You listen well, you have soft hair, and you’re cute. Just like a puppy.” you pull your shirt off, letting it fall to the ground. Scott's eyes widen as you start unbuttoning your shirt, his gaze immediately fixated on the exposed skin beneath.

His breath catches in his throat, and his hands clench into fists at his sides, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "You think I'm cute?" he mutters gruffly, his voice gruff as he tries to maintain his composure.

”The cutest,” you smile sweetly, stepping between his legs and bringing his hands to your bra. Scott's hands twitch slightly at the sudden warmth under his palms. The feel of your skin and the soft lace of your bra against his calloused hands sends a jolt of electricity through his body.

He looks up at you, his expression a mix of desire and surprise. His eyes rake over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin, his mouth watering at the sight of you. "Damn," he groans, his voice husky. "You're beautiful, princess."

You bite your lip “Scott..” you look down at him, eyes full of lust and desire.

Scott's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire and longing. He swallows hard, his throat dry as he registers the look in your eyes.

He tugs you closer, bringing his hands up to the small of your back, his palms pressing into your skin. "Say my name again," he mutters gruffly, his voice rough with need.

”Scott, touch me please..” you practically whine out in desire, Scott's body shudders at the sound of your voice, desperate and needy. Your plea sparks something within him, igniting a fire of desire that he can't hold back anymore.

He swallows hard, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he looks up at you. "You want me to touch you, princess?" he mutters gruffly, his hands roaming across your back, caressing your skin.

”Please,” you groan, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pull yourself closer to him.

Scott's breath hitches at the sound of your groaning plea, his heart racing in his chest. Your arms around his neck and your body pressed against him, pleading with him to touch you, it's driving him wild.

He leans his head forward, burying his face against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he responds. "You don't have to beg, princess," he mutters gruffly in your ear. "I'll touch you as much as you want."

You settle into his laps, grinding down against him. “I really need you, Scottie.” You whisper into his ear. Scott's body jerks involuntarily as you settle onto his lap and grind against him. A guttural moan escapes his lips at the sound of your whispered plea, his hands immediately grabbing onto your hips, holding you against him.

He buries his face against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You need me, huh?" he mutters gruffly, his voice strained as he struggles to maintain control.

”More than anything.” You’re desperate for him to take complete control.

Your words, full of need and desperation, ignite a primal fire within Scott. He can't deny you any longer, can't resist the need to claim you, to give you everything you want.

He growls deeply, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he lifts you up and moves you further onto the bed, laying you down with a thump. He prowls over you, his eyes dark with unconcealed desire.

"You're gonna get what you want, princess," he mutters gruffly. "I'll give you everything you need." You moan at his words, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

Without breaking the kiss, Scott's hands start to explore your body, his fingertips tracing the lines of your waist, sliding up to the clasp of your bra. He fumbles with it for a moment, his urgency palpable, before finally releasing it.

The fabric falls away, revealing your bare breasts to his heated gaze. He groans into your mouth, his hands cupping you gently before his thumbs begin to tease your hardened nipples. The sensation sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, making your body arch off the bed.

His touch is rough but tender, each stroke setting your skin alight with a passion that's been smoldering between you for so long. You moan into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as your kiss deepens. The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the rustle of clothes being removed, the air thick with anticipation.

Scott's eyes never leave yours as he moves to kiss down your neck, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting more of you. The intensity of your connection is undeniable, a powerful force that's been building for too long, finally ready to be unleashed.

Scott's desperation is undeniable as he kisses you with a fervor that leaves you breathless. His hands roam over your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he peppers your skin with urgent kisses.

He moves down to your collarbone, sucking gently before moving to your breasts, taking one in his mouth and flicking the nipple with his tongue. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you gasp. His teeth graze your skin, leaving a series of love bites that feel like a brand, marking you as his.

Each suck and nip is accompanied by a soft groan of satisfaction from him, the sound vibrating against your chest and making your toes curl. His mouth moves further down, leaving a path of love marks across your stomach and hips, as if he's claiming every inch of you.

His teeth sink into your skin harder now, leaving dark hickeys that will be a delicious secret between the two of you. Each mark is a declaration of his desire, a physical testament to the passion that's been simmering just beneath the surface for so long. His hunger for you is insatiable, and you can feel it in every touch, every kiss, every possessive groan that rumbles through his chest.

Scott slides down the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, until his face is level with your hips. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your pants and pulls them down along with your underwear in one swift motion, exposing your wet and eager sex to his gaze.

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight, licking his lips in anticipation. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs gruffly, his voice thick with desire. He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at you. His tongue darts out, teasing the outer folds of your pussy before delving deeper, tasting your sweetness.

You moan, arching your back, as he begins to eat you out with a passion that's both rough and tender. His tongue circles your clit, flicking and stroking, as his hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him. He's relentless, his mouth working you with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

Each stroke of his tongue sends a wave of pleasure through you, each suck making you moan louder. He's not gentle, but you don't want him to be. You want him to devour you, to claim you, and that's exactly what he does. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every pass of his tongue, your body tightening in anticipation of the orgasm that's building within you. "Don't stop," you whimper, your voice needy.

He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving into your wetness, his teeth grazing your sensitive clit. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, but you want more, need more of him.

His hands move to your hips, his grip tightening as he laps at you, his tongue moving in rhythm with the pulsing of your desire. You're so close, so very close, and he knows it.

He slows down, teasing you, making you beg for the release that's just out of reach. And when you're on the brink, when you think you can't take it anymore, he speeds up again, sending you hurtling over the edge with a scream of pleasure that fills the room.

As the last waves of your orgasm ripple through your body, you pull Scott up to you, desperate for more of his touch, more of him inside you. Your hands are everywhere, tangling in his hair, gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer as you kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips.

The room spins with the intensity of your need, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, a testament to his own desire. You rock your hips against him, seeking the friction that will bring you both to the brink again.

He groans into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you closer as he grinds against you. The raw need in your movements, the way your body responds to his, it's like nothing he's ever felt before. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his eyes locked on yours as he reaches for his own pants, fumbling with the zipper.

With a swift motion, he shoves his pants down, freeing his cock, which stands thick and hard, ready to claim you. He reaches for the nightstand, grabbing a condom and ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on.

His gaze never leaves yours as he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your wetness. You bite your lip, your eyes wide with anticipation, your body aching for him to fill you. "Are you ready, princess?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

You nod eagerly, and with one swift thrust, he's inside you, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out, your nails digging into his back as he stretches and fills you completely. He stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, before he starts to move, his hips pumping into yours with a rough, primal rhythm that matches the beat of your racing heart.

Each stroke is deep and demanding, claiming you over and over again, making you his in every way possible. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, your body moving in sync with his as the pleasure builds once more.

You're lost in the sensation, in the feeling of him inside you, the way he makes you feel so alive, so wanted. And as he continues to drive into you, you know that no matter what happens next, this moment will change everything.

Scott's groan deepens as he feels your body tighten around him, signaling your impending release. His thrusts become more urgent, his hips pistoning into yours with a force that shakes the bed. "Come for me, baby," he grunts, his voice a low, desperate growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you arch up to meet each powerful stroke. The pressure inside you builds, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps, sending a cascade of pleasure through your body. You scream out his name as you climax, your muscles spasming around his cock.

The sound of your pleasure is like music to his ears, pushing him over the edge as well. He drives into you one last time, burying himself deep as he releases, his entire body shaking with the force of his orgasm. For a moment, the only sounds in the room are the harsh gasps of your breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin.

Then, he collapses onto you, his weight a welcome warmth as your bodies come down from the high together. His forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his heart pounding in time with yours. "Fuck," he whispers gruffly, his voice filled with awe and wonder. "That was..." He trails off, unable to find the words to describe what just happened between you. You smile, feeling the same sense of amazement.

"Yeah," you murmur, your voice still shaky with aftershocks of pleasure. "It was." Scott's body trembles above you, his breathing heavy and ragged. He supports himself on his forearms, his weight pressing you into the bed. The heat radiating off of him, the feel of his skin against yours, is both overwhelming and exhilarating.

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire, awe, and vulnerability. His rough exterior has cracked, revealing the man beneath - the one who desires you so fiercely.

"I don't think I've ever... felt anything like that before," he mutters gruffly, his voice raw with emotion. You smile, looking up at him lovingly.

”Yeah?” You hum sweetly, Scott nods, his eyes searching yours as he gazes down at you. He reaches out, his hand caressing your cheek, his touch gentle.

"Yeah," he mutters gruffly, his voice still hoarse. "I've never been as completely consumed by anyone the way I am with you. It's like..." He falters, struggling to find the right words to express what he's feeling.

You pull him down on the bed next to you, blushing at his words. “That’s a good thing, right?” Scott lets himself fall onto the bed next to you, his body molding against yours instinctively. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He looks at you, his eyes soft and affectionate. "Of course it is, princess," he mutters gruffly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's the best damn thing I've ever felt."

”I’ll be right back,” you mumble against his ear, slowly pulling away from his warmth. You grab his shirt and bound off to the bathroom.

Scott lets out a low growl as you pull away from him, the sudden absence of your warmth against his body leaving him feeling cold and empty. He watches as you grab his shirt and head off to the bathroom.

He sits up in bed, his body still buzzing with the aftershocks of your intimate moment, his eyes following you until you disappear into the bathroom, he pulls his boxers back on.

You clean up your appearance, fixing your hair and smeared lipstick. You slip his shirt on, taking a deep breath of his musk.

He smooths his hair before he sits back against the headboard. His eyes focused on the door. You slip back out of the bathroom, smiling at him as you crawl into the bed with him.

Scott's heart rate increases as you slip out of the bathroom, his shirt covering your body. The thought of you wearing his clothes, surrounded by his scent, drives him wild.

He watches as you crawl into the bed with him, a small, appreciative smile forming on his lips. His arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you tight against him, his chest rumbling with a possessive growl.

"You look good in my shirt, princess," he mutters gruffly, his hands roaming across your body, exploring every inch of you.

“And you look good with a smile,” you kiss his cheek. Scott's cheeks flush slightly at your words, his gruff exterior momentarily slipping as he absorbs your praise.

He looks at you, his eyes warm and affectionate as he mutters gruffly, "You know how to melt a man's heart, huh?" He reaches out, his hand grabbing your chin, turning your head to look at him. "And you look even better in my bed," he adds, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

”Then I should stay in it more often.” You lean in kissing his soft lips. Scott's body hums with desire as you lean in and kiss him. His lips press against yours hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. His hands roam across your body, pulling you even closer against him.

He mutters gruffly against your lips, "You should. And you should definitely wear my shirt more often."

”I’d be happy to, it smells just like you..” you cuddle into his chest, “It's like heaven.”

Scott's heart swells at your words, his chest puffing out with pride. He wraps his arms around you, holding you against him, his hands roaming across your back in slow, soothing circles.

"Heaven, huh?" he mutters gruffly, a hint of a smile in his voice you close your eyes with a content sigh.

”Can I sleep in your arms tonight?” You murmur against his chest.

Scott's heart skips a beat at your request, his arms instinctively tightening around you. The thought of holding you in his arms all night, keeping you safe and warm, is both overwhelming and soothing.

He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling your scent, before muttering gruffly, "Of course, princess. I'd be a fool to deny you anything you want."

2K notes · View notes

salem-s · 1 month ago

Text

03 ── TEMPORARY TRUCE ── RAFE CAMERON (18+)

SYNOPSIS you absolutely can't stand your roommate's brother, and Rafe can't not take an opportunity to poke fun at you every chance he gets. but when you both accidentally have a jello shot infused with molly, you decide to have a temporary truce and enjoy the night. SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

WARNINGS language, drug usage (molly), fondling and over the clothes (smut?). 18+ mdni. please i am not condoning drug use don't take after these idiots for the love of god.

WORD COUNT 11.7k. my bad.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER sugar by brockhampton

"Cameron, what the fuck are we supposed to do now?"

In a meek attempt to listen to all the signs telling you to go home and sleep the effects of the drug off, it doesn't prove very effective when your phone dies before you can even open the Uber app. It gets even better because when Rafe offers to call a cab, his phone is simply not in his pocket, where he says he left it last.

Characteristically, he simply shrugs and waves off the petty theft as if it literally means nothing to him.

"At least I have my wallet," is all he says on the matter.

And now, phone-less and stranded, the two of you loiter in a small park two blocks away from the club you previously got kicked out in order to take a breather and figure out the game plan. The same club where all your friends are inside dancing and drinking and celebrating Sarah, hooting and hollering and having a grand ol' time.

Not you and Rafe, though, since the park has become your new place to stop and think.

Although, it's mainly you trying to brainstorm on top of the fuzziness and airiness in your chest as you pace ferociously in concentration. Rafe, on the other hand, man-spreads on a park bench with his arms crossed in sloth, seemingly having all the time in the world to watch you do your little panicked pacing maneuvers instead of pitching in ideas. Apparently, you're his favorite form of entertainment without even realizing.

"We can try and hail a cab like how they do in movies," you murmur, blinking away the thought of how the grass kinda looks like it's moving. "Or wander to try and find the next subway station. They have maps."

Rafe hums, almost mockingly.

"I mean," you continue, "it can't be that far. There's gotta be signs around."

"Can't get anywhere without signs."

You stop your pacing to look at him incredulously. "Thank you, really." You blink. "For nothing."

"Why are you so worked up right now?"

His relaxed demeanor nearly sends you into psychosis, and you can't fathom his nonchalance in the slightest. Here you both are, high off ecstasy with no phone, no GPS, no way to contact your friends, in a random park late at night (and fucking starving, nonetheless) with absolutely no schedule or idea on the next move.

The uncertainty makes you panic.

You repeatedly curse yourself for your brief moment of desperation in the club, following him out like a sick puppy in fear of dealing with the drug alone. But the longer you think about it, the more you realize you absolutely did not need to do that, as you could've found your friends (not saying it would've been easy, but definitely possible) and clung to them instead of him.

Because he hasn't stopping grinning at you after he saw you clutch his hand as if you'd crumble without him.

Rafe relished in it, in fact, as if you holding his hand had been the most exhilarating thing he's ever experienced. And in some ways, it had been, because you always voiced how many ways you'd murder him if he ever touched you, much less held your hand, for more than five seconds. The threats, of course, always come up empty and fruitless, but your tone of voice never wavers, so you like to make him believe that, one day, you might actually do it.

Him. Rafe Cameron.

Who's smirking so godforsaken arrogant up at you right now that it makes your anger tenfold.

"Why am I so worked up?" You repeat back to him in disbelief, scoffing at his lazy shrug. "Why am I- I'm in a random park in the middle of the night with a dead phone, high off some bullshit JJ made in my apartment bathroom that I don't think is FDA approved, stranded with you, the Prince Prick of all Pricks."

All he does is stare at you.

"That title's endearing."

"Oh my god."

"Star, if I'm being honest, it kinda sounds like you like me."

You scoff, rubbing out a growing migraine to attempt to block him from seeing just how fucking flustered you are. "Cameron, you are the last person I would ever want to be with, and I mean that most sincerely."

"I don't know," he drawls out for the sake of living up his name, "you're the one who followed me."

You hate it. You hate that he's holding it over your head, dangling it on a fish hook to consistently remind you that you chose him. Out of all those people, out of your friends, you ran to him, picked him, clung to him. You'd like to think it's a moment of weakness, but you also hate how certain you were in the moment, how certain you were of him.

"Alright," you hiss, "you are letting one bad moment of mine live rent free in your head."

Rafe laughs boyishly, as if your entire existence is providing him with the comic relief he's been looking for all his life. "You always live rent free in my head."

You really try to ignore the insinuation behind his words, but wordlessly shake it off at the reminder that this is what he loves to do: rile you up, get you stumbling over your words in feeble attempts to defend yourself, and make it seem like he's winning. Whatever the winning entails, you're not so sure. Pride? Ego? Pure enjoyment?

But this is what he does, what he lives for, which is to get under your skin in every possible way, regardless of turn, rhyme, reason.

This teasing is your reminder to ground yourself, to remember that you're simply stuck with him for the night given your mutual agreement to look out for each other. It doesn't mean anything. It's done out of solidarity because he felt bad for you, he feels responsible for you, nothing more. He's under obligation to look after you, because you figure Sarah would viscerally berate her brother if anything bad happened to you.

After your moment in the club, you nearly forget yourself.

But as you stand here, flabbergasted at his audacious grin, you're reminded of why you can't stand him.

"Molly got your tongue?" He even has the gall to add when you've gone silent.

Oh, how badly you want to throttle him. "Rafe, your arrogance literally makes me sick."

"Awe, I'm sorry baby."

"I am absolutely not your baby."

In case the universe needed to humble you a little bit more, your stomach lets out the loudest growl that symbolizes a gluttonous cry for help.

You freeze at the sound and so does he, his mouth agape as he was about to speak and retaliate against your hatred for the nickname, probably about to drone on further and call you something else that will only piss you off further. There's a beat of silence between you two, almost in disbelief, at the noise.

Yet Rafe doesn't miss a beat as his gaze quickly darts from your stomach then back up to your eyes.

"Need a kiss to make it better?"

You look at him as if he's grown three heads, taking a moment to really absorb his words and understand that your mind isn't making it up, that he's actually saying this, blatantly hitting on you as some sort of sick joke. The fact that he is entertained by trying to make a fool out of you makes your hands shake as your fists clench. A part of you feels anger bubble in your chest at his disrespect for you.

Why are you even surprised? You should've known that this sort of mutual respect bullshit thing going on was only temporary.

But that is certainly out the window when he treats you like this, like another one of his girls that'll swoon and cater to all his needs at the charismatic words that come so easy to him, like every girl at his beck and call as he's so used to, like every single person who kisses his ass and allows him to think he's this unattainable hot-shot that people should be thankful he even spares a glance at.

Girls come easy to him, that much is true.

But not you. Never you.

Because it makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel disposable every time he treats you like one of his girls. He makes you feel bad for whenever you fall for it, whenever you inavertently blush or stutter or fall into his trap. He makes you feel so small, as if he's dangling the possibility of ever being with him on a string in front of you, pulling away every time you even think about getting close.

It's exhausting.

"Look," you say low, ignoring how he tilts his head almost mockingly at your seriousness, "I don't know if you have the wrong impression, but whatever happened in that club doesn't mean anything, and it especially doesn't mean that you get to say these things as if you ever had the right."

Rafe's smirk falters.

"Now, you can sit here and flirt with the ferns for all I care." You wave dismissively, backing up, done with the conversation and of him. "But I'm going home."

Your back is to him before you even know it, heading for the park exit as quickly as your elevated body will let you and figuring you can handle the logistics of getting home once he's out of sight and unable to continue ridiculing you.

Because, no, you're not going to sit here and take his meaningless attempts to flirt knowing he's only doing it to piss you off, to rile you up, to get out to stumble over your words and give him the satisfaction that even you, the girl who never let him get too close, are falling victim to the Rafe Cameron charm. It's mean and targeted and you hate how it makes you feel.

But - of course - Rafe isn't the one to let someone else have the last word.

"Wait! Stop- fuck. Wait up!"

It's only a matter of seconds before a warm hand is curling around your bicep, and another second before Rafe is standing in front of you. His hands iron grip your forearms as if you'll float away if he lets go, the touch shooting electricity through your veins in an unfortunate (yet exhilarating) way. He ducks low enough to meet your eye level, practically forcing you to look at him despite your best efforts to remain stoic and detached.

You writhe against him.

"Let me go, Rafe," you murmur low, hating how his touch ignites a fire against your skin.

"No," he responds, because of course. "I'll let up, okay? Just..."

He takes a long breath, as if the promise of not tormenting you is so achingly difficult.

"Don't take off like that. Ever." His tone is low, desperate. "I'll get you home."

You open your mouth to retort something mean, something that will probably make you look even stupider than before, but your words die in your throat when you look at him, when you really look at him. Because his blue eyes are narrowed to you, brows slightly pinched in worry as his gaze darts to study the expression on your face, frowning at your frown. You reel, because he actually looks serious, which is something you don't see from him often.

Not really, anyway.

The genuine expression on his face makes you blink once, twice up at him, trying to discern if this is a prank or not. But after a moment of coming up short, he remains the same, and you remain silent, almost in awe of the switch-up.

You find it in yourself to roll your eyes and attempt to shrug him off, but his hands are firm around your arms.

He squeezes once in affirmation, a gesture to get you to acknowledge, to understand. "Okay?"

Blinking, you frown at his sudden desire to give a shit about you. But you honestly just want your bed, and this back and forth with him is starting to make you dizzy.

You wave the white flag.

"Whatever, now will you let go? I can walk on my own-"

Another loud grumble from your stomach interrupts you, and you sigh so gutturally deep that it might as well be from your soul. Of fucking course, right?

Rafe takes that as a sign to let a sliver of humor slip through the cracks, as he can't help a small smile from forming at the corners of his mouth.

"C'mon, Star," he muses low, removing his grip from your body and instead slinging one of his lanky (yet muscular) arms around your shoulder. "Let's make a pit stop. My treat."

You should've just eaten at home.

Because at least then you could've been in your pajamas on the couch or in your bed, comforted by the homey silence that your apartment provides when you are alone in solace. Maybe your neighbor's cat, Elfie, could've made another appearance on your fire escape and made refuge in your room as he has so many times before. You even could've resumed that episode of that stupid reality tv show you had been secretly watching without Sarah.

But nope.

You're in a dingy pizza parlor.

With Rafe Cameron.

He looks astronomically out of place in his tall stature and hundred thousand dollar watch, yet doesn't seem to mind it in the slightest as he intently studies the menu as if he's reading ancient scripture, brows furrowed in thought and his thumb and index finger caressing his own chin, emulating The Thinker.

If he wasn't acting so strange, you would've poked fun at his clear emulation of a fish out of water.

Since your little outburst, Rafe refuses to let you go far by keeping a searing hand on the small of your spine or up on the back of your neck. The touch does little to ease your nerves of being out and about in the city whilst high and phone-less, and electrifies your skin every time his fingers even twitch in the slightest. It's nothing short of possessiveness, you gather, but don't have the words to address it.

Frankly, you don't know what to make of it.

Especially since he hasn't jabbed at you once since the park, marking it very uncharacteristic for him.

"What're you thinkin', Star?" Rafe mumbles so low, so sincere. His eyes don't leave the menu, as if this choice is life or death.

You say your order to him, simply opting for a slice to get moving back to the apartment where you can really chef it up with all the ingredients in your pantry. But of course, instead of one slice, he orders a large pizza of it instead and barely bats an eye at your protest, flashing his Amex card without sparing you a glance and blatantly ignoring you cuss up at him.

Soon enough, you secede, and eventually you're both sitting on the curb outside the parlor, balancing a teetering pizza box on your knees as you take turns holding the cardboard so the other can get another slice.

It's surprisingly domestic, only offering a few words in exchange if needed. But all the attention is on how good the food is, how satisfied you actually are at the meal. You're not sure if it's the drug effects or what, but the pizza is actually one of the best you've ever had and try to mask your surprise, since praise does everything for his ego.

Realistically, you're thoroughly surprised at his good behavior.

"See? No reason to high tail it home just yet, hm?"

Well. Relatively good behavior.

You take a gluttonous bite of your slice, but not without a playful eye roll. "I would prefer to be in my pajamas in bed, but I guess this is fine, too."

A beat. "Yeah, I bet your pajamas are real nice."

At the comment, you give him a pointed look that almost resembles a warning.

He throws his hands up in surrender - er - one hand up, as the other holds a precariously floppy piece of pizza. "Sorry, sorry. Working on it."

"It's almost as if being a prick is in your god-given nature," you mumble, taking another bite.

You half mean it, half jest.

But Rafe is quiet, as if contemplating your words and believing them, and your heart skips a beat at the silence, at the uncharacteristic lack of response.

Fuck. Was that an asshole thing to say?

You don't mean to sound like an actual asshole, as this is what the two of you do: he makes a lewd comment, you call him something heinous, he laughs and shrugs it off and continues the obscenities just to watch you squirm. The banter is never taken seriously. It never keeps you up at night. You never second guess your jabs, and you assume he doesn't either.

Yet not now.

You hate the feeling bubbling in your gut, teetering between actual guilt and frustration. He makes you feel so annoyed all the time, so you shouldn't feel bad, right? You should relish in the fact that you finally made him experience what you feel all the time, account for all of the times he's driven you up the wall.

But no. You hate the silence.

You are just about to open your mouth and apologize when he's speaking again.

"Probably is," is all he says, whispered almost in a hushed tone as if it's sin.

You turn your head to look at him, frowning at how certain he sounds about your off-handed comment. Nudging your chin towards him, you attempt to get him to look at you, to flash his million dollar smirk and say something, anything, in Rafe Cameron fashion to get you guys back on the same page again. Yet he refuses to glance your way. Instead, he picks crumbs out of his crust and chucks them onto the street in a he loves me, he loves me not flower petal picking way.

Despite what he portrays himself as, you know he's not all iron and steel. He's fragile. Self-aware of his tendencies. Highly prone to self deprecation.

Not that he'd ever tell you, but because Sarah unintentionally has before.

A random tidbit pops into your mind from a little while ago: you and Sarah sitting shoulder to shoulder on your bedroom fire escape, passing a poorly rolled joint as you gazed out onto the city scape. All the guys were having a boys night, which simply consisted of them holing in the apartment across the hall and playing poker, smoking, and occasionally watching Arrested Development if they needed a background laugh.

A particularly loud laugh echoed out of a cracked window - Rafe's - and the sound made Sarah smile so fondly as she leaned her head on your shoulder.

"What?" You had asked her, almost in teasing.

But the blonde simply hummed happily, closing her eyes at the sound. "'M just happy for him."

"Your brother?"

At this point, you had only really known Rafe for a few months, and were slowly trying to warm up to him despite his two moods: his incessant flirting or his stoic behavior, as you assume he was still trying to discern if you were a threat or not despite being good friends with Sarah all throughout college. It's safe to say you didn't really like him, nor was willing to be open to the idea of being close.

"He's never really had friends," she had said quietly. "Not real ones, anyway."

You remember frowning, confused at how an extroverted guy like him could be lonely. "Seriously?"

Sarah albeit hummed in affirmation. "People stuck around him for the money. Not for him. Never had true friends to trust, to keep him in check, to like him."

Now, you understand her words as you sit next to said person in this given moment.

As Rafe still refuses to meet your gaze, your brain racks its gears for calculated responses, ones that'll reaffirm that he's a good person (that he's a prick but mainly with good intentions), that he is on the road to becoming a better version of himself now that he has people who actually love and care for him surrounding him.

But what actually comes out of your mouth shocks you.

"How often does it work in your favor?"

That makes Rafe pinch his eyebrows in confusion, throwing the last of his broken crust onto the street. Once his hands are free, he's lulling his head to look at your profile, and know you're the one who can't seem to look at him, frankly shocked that you said that out of genuine curiosity.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why couldn't you have said something nice? Something that affirms his good stature as a person? Something to get him out of the dumps and shake off your comment like a piece of lint, to resume to the way things were before.

But he takes your question with sincerity, taking a moment to really think about his answer.

"Fifty-fifty," he says after a minute, calculated. "Usually scores with girls."

Despite it all, you snort. You're clearly not in the demographic.

At your noise, Rafe nearly reciprocates it but out of disbelief, staring at you for a moment longer before exhaling a laugh. "Believe it or not, they dig it."

You scrunch your nose. "Dig it? Are we kidding?"

"Not at all," he chuckles lightly, eyes still boring into your profile. Then, quieter, "I’m not used to that...not working."

The air between you feels thicker than before, because now he's transitioned into a topic regarding you, the outlier, the odd one out.

You're the girl who never let him get too close, who always threatened him with death if he even bugged you a little too much on certain days, who never gave into his charm despite how sultry his voice got or how pretty his eyes were, who never thought a guy like him would seriously be trying to get with you, of all people. You two bantered and bickered and had your fun (if that's what you want to call it) but you never took it seriously, never considered his words to be true.

Because why would he be? You're not at all the kind of person he'd go for.

Realistically, you always assumed he treated his flirting as a game, something to keep him entertained as he was looking for his next score. Because, if one thing's for certain, you always keep him on his toes and are quick to quip and jab and give him that form of entertainment that you simply assumed he was looking for in order to pass the time.

But you never thought...

You never conceptualized that he was actually trying.

You reel. Is your brain really that foggy from the molly or was this really his perverted way of attempting to pick you up?

"Wait," you find yourself blurting out, "were you actually trying with me?"

"Are," he corrects amusingly, "and have been for the past year."

Your head whips to look at him incredulously, anticipating the classic lewd comment or innuendo that he'll usually say after a moment of seriousness.

But your search to find any teasing demeanor falls short, as he sends you a small smile that's void of deceit. Instead it's soft, almost amused that it took you so long to notice, as if it had been obvious, as if he's been waiting ages to tell you. Rafe takes in your stare with patience, something he has never been praised for before, blue eyes twinkling with delight at your bewilderment.

He doesn't reach out for you, or go into a giant spiel on his feelings, or give you any indication that he's going to keep speaking, instead letting you come to him, letting you process what he's saying.

And process you do.

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to find your words.

"You-"

You point to him. His eyes follow your gesture.

"-are into me?"

Rafe stifles a grin at your genuine seriousness. "Took you long enough, Star."

You reel, blinking stupidly and now just realizing how close you are to him, shoulders and knees brushing as if the close proximity has meant nothing to him the entire time. Christ's sake, you've been helping him pull slices from the box as if it means nothing, playing and joking around with you about his flirting tendencies as if it means nothing, as if you weren't the one he's been trying to score with the entire time.

Suddenly, you're warped back into the club, flashes of his face under the kaleidoscopes of lights haunting your vision like a dream. The piercing blue eyes weren't looking for its next entertainment, they were smitten. Irrevocably. The fight and excuse that he had found Sarah wasn't out of protection, it was out of jealousy. The permanent grin on his face when you clutched onto his hand like a lifeline wasn't out of teasing, it was out of hope.

"Rafe-" You find yourself saying, unsure of where you're going with it.

Until you hear your name being yelled across the street.

Blinking confusedly, your eyes leave his to follow the voice.

Only to see an old friend from school waving at you as if he's been electrified.

Rafe's gaze follows yours, brows furrowing at the interruption and staring the culprit up and down, his anticipation through the roof at the vulnerability of it all, the tension thick between the close space between you that's riddled with the aftermath of the truth bomb.

Took you long enough, Star.

Long enough? How long is he talking? A week? A month? More? Is he actually being serious?

Your name is shouted again from across the street, mind pin-balling between the confession and the voice. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to register who's calling for you.

It's one of your class friends, Gabriel, who always had your back when you slept too late or needed the last couple of answers on the homework, who you pretended to be his girlfriend for when his all-too-traditional father came to visit campus for parents weekend, who was probably your best class friend you've ever had. Once you all graduated, you hadn't heard from him much as you didn't need answers from him or he didn't need your meticulous study guide.

Now he's here. Waving at you and interrupting arguably one of the most shocking discoveries of your life.

Gabriel says your name again, crossing the street without so much as looking as he runs up to you, beaming with his arms open wide and swaying slightly obvious enough to indicate that he's been drinking a bit.

You stand on wobbly legs, letting out a shaky chuckle as the aftershocks of your previous conversation still ring throughout your body. Embracing your friend in a hug, you see in your peripheral that Rafe also stands, placing the pizza box on the curb and waiting uncharacteristically patient next to you, undoubtedly sizing up your friend to analyze if it's a threat or not (in a multitude of ways, now that you think about it).

"Holy shit," Gabriel sighs contentedly while hugging you, "my daily horoscope said I'd see an old friend today, and I was so fucking scared it was gonna be Melanie."

You can't help but laugh, pulling back from the embrace and finding the gall to smile at your friend. "You'd never hear the end of her France trip."

Gabriel rolls his eyes in grandeur. "Ugh, don't remind me."

He opens his mouth to say something else, then just now notices Rafe standing lean and tall next to you, simply stoic and staring that makes your friend slightly furrow his brows, darting his gaze between the two of you in a mixture of shock and intimidation. Of course, Rafe offers no warm welcome or nothing to introduce himself, most likely seeing your harmless friend as a threat.

Guard dog, you think.

"This is Sarah's brother," you say before your friend can make a lewd comment. "Rafe."

The fear is gone as Gabriel's eyes widen and his gaze softens, no longer feeling intimidated by the presence standing lean next to you. His million dollar smile brightens as he looks to Rafe, who barely twitches at the sudden warmth provided by the stranger and instead stiffens at the casual nature, stiffens at how quick the flip switched when you mentioned his sister.

"Love your sister," is all your friend says, placing a gentle hand on Rafe's wrist for emphasis before turning back to you. "I'm with Brian and his friends from home."

Your gaze switches from Gabriel to the people behind him still across the street, your other friend that you recognize along with a couple of guys and girls you don't know. They laugh with each other and carry suspicious looking paper bags with what resembles to be cans of whatever they're drinking. You notice Brian grinning at one of his friends, clutching her shoulder for emphasis as he says something that you can't really hear from this far.

"We're dating," Gabriel adds in an excited hush, "by the way."

Beaming, you grab his hand. "Really?"

"Yes, and finally," your friend says with an eye roll. "He asked me after New Years. Typical. At least I could've kissed him if he asked before."

You nearly snort when you barely make out Rafe's shoulders releasing tension.

Your friend doesn't notice. "We're heading back to his friend's penthouse a few blocks down," Gabriel adds, gripping your hands fiercely tight that it feels like a hundred pins and needles throughout your body. "You guys should totally come."

Your eyes widen.

Gaping your mouth open like a fish, you're caught in a state of how do I politely decline my friend's invitation because I'm tripping so hard right now that I just need my bed? Oh and also the guy who I never thought I'd have a chance with apparently is into me? and that actually sounds like a blast. Because, frankly, you wouldn't mind going but in hindsight, you know as soon as you get there you're going to wish you went home instead.

And - of course - Rafe uses this moment to finally find his voice.

"We're not busy," he says low and baritone. Then, he gestures to the pizza box on the curb. "Clearly."

You want to frown at the implication.

Actually, the two of you were very busy in the middle of a very important conversation that you'd really like to return to. There are so many questions left unanswered in your head, and you're sure that he wants answers of his own since he's - apparently - been waiting long enough for one. However long it is, you're not sure.

But given his dismissive wave of the hand and eyes that won't find yours, it's clear that Rafe has given up the topic.

For now, you think.

Gabriel glances at Rafe, surprised yet on board nonetheless. Then, your friend looks back to you with a grin. "You heard the man. C'mon, there's a pool and free alcohol. It's actually fucked."

Before you know it, you're following Gabriel, his boyfriend, and a group of people you've never met before down the street, but not without Rafe's hand ghosting - just barely skimming - the small of your back the entire walk, electrifying your skin with every brush of contact.

For once, you don't lean away from his touch.

To say the penthouse is big is an understatement.

Brian's friend, Ventura, inherited the suite for the weekend since her dad is on a business trip, and did not hesitate to coordinate her friends staying and partying here while the space is vacant. You don't bother to learn what her father does for a living, and frankly don't even have the words when you first understand how much money you're currently standing around.

The borderline house is on the rooftop of a ten story building with an audaciously big porch with a rectangle pool adorning the corner. They have their own separate room off the kitchen explicitly for liquor. There is a doorman who monitors the elevator to make sure only a certain set of people who have access to the top floor are guarded. You're sure the wallpaper is more expensive than your rent.

You figure an hour or so wouldn't hurt.

When the group enters the penthouse, Ventura and her cousin head directly to the liquor cabinet (even calling it a cabinet is generous, more like a room) while Gabriel and Brian linger back with you and Rafe, who stand at the door simply gawking at the size of the home that you're standing in, reveling in the various antiques and sleek decor in a way you've only seen advertised in magazine, or seen in futuristic shows.

"You don't get used to it," Brian says after chuckling at your shock. "I swear every time I come here, it's somehow bigger. They even have a VR golf room."

That makes Rafe perk up. "No shit?"

Eagerly nodding, Brian exhales in disbelief. "It's fucked. Wanna see it?"

Almost uncertain, Rafe cautiously darts his gaze from Brian to you with this new sense of softness that you're unsure of where that sprung from. His blue eyes search yours for something you can't decipher, practically the saint of patience as he blinks down at you.

After a beat of silence and staring back at him quizzically, you finally understand that he's waiting for the green light from you.

Waiting for permission.

You try (and fail) to mask your shock, as all you can muster is a small nod to him, brows furrowed at why he feels the need to get your approval in the first place to check out a fucking golf simulator in the other room. You practically reel when he instantly looks back to Brian, nodding cooly as if to say lead the way.

When he's out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. To make matters worse, Gabriel simply whistles low next to you, and you can already anticipate what he's going to say.

"Walk him like a dog, sis," he muses with a grin.

You nearly choke on your breath. "Shut up. It's not even like that."

Your friend starts walking into the penthouse, beckoning you to follow, which you do immediately. In an instant, you're running into Ventura and her friends, who hand you and Gabriel a drink without so much as a thought before skipping to the porch doors. Like sheep, you follow and nearly sigh at the cool air, the breeze much more tenacious up this high, especially in the night.

Settling on a pool chair, you lay back as Gabriel sits at the end, leaning an elbow on your bent knees.

A little ways away, Ventura and her friends are already sauntering over to the hot tub, kicking off their designer heels and perching on the edge to stick their feet in, not even considering getting their clothes wet. They converse about someone they ran into earlier in the night, going over the story in multiple different perspectives that, after at least a minute, you're already checked out.

You block out their conversation, instead relishing in how refreshing the air feels against your skin, how it amplifies your senses yet relaxes you at the same time. Gaze locked in on the royal blue pool lights that lull into a false sense of a dream, your dazed state becomes more obvious than ever.

"So," Gabriel broaches after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "how long have you been together?"

Your eyebrows pinch together. "Hm?"

"You and Rafe?" He says as if it's obvious. "Super cute, by the way."

Sucking in a harsh breath, you attempt to laugh the comment off but instead it comes out pained, almost offended at the thought of it. Though the wound festers you when you remember the confession he spilled on that curb, how he looked at you when he said it, how sure he looked of himself, of his words, of his intentions.

You shiver, and you can't discern if it's from the breeze or the anecdote.

"We're not together," you manage to whisper.

Gabriel sits up, brows furrowed so serious that you might as well have told him the secrets of the universe. "What?!"

All you can do is shrug and shake your head, not trusting your words. God, you feel your face flush, and whether he can sense your clear embarrassment, he either pays it no mind or can't tell in the darkness, still caught up in the notion that you two are, in fact, not dating.

And he cannot fathom those three words. "You better be kidding."

"Gab-"

"No," he interrupts, sitting up even straighter and practically leaning down on you. "Did you-? Hello? Did you not just see how he looked at you, like, five minutes ago?"

Yes, you did. And you're choosing to ignore it.

"You are totally seeing things that aren't there," you deflect, taking an elongated sip of your drink, nearly wincing how it feels like pin pricks on your tongue.

Gabriel simply peers down at you as if you've grown a third eye, seconds from crashing out over your blatant dismissiveness. He blinks big once, twice, then jerks his head at out as if to say c'mon! as he squeezes your kneecap for emphasis on his next words.

You squirm under his stare. "We're just friends."

If you can even call it that, you want to add, but refrain for obvious reasons.

Another big blink. Another squeeze. A raised brow.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"No."

"Gabriel."

"You are being so stupid right now. Wake up."

Stifling a laugh of disbelief, you shake your head and cautiously cradle your drink, picking absentmindedly at the label to dart your gaze away from your friend's knowing stare. Deep down, you know it's true what he's insinuating, and you really, really do not want to believe him, because that makes opening up a complicated can of worms that you aren't sure you can stomach right now.

Because you are awake. In fact, you're more awake than ever with your feelings dialed to an eleven, your senses tenfold. You're experiencing life more than ever before, experiencing a new sensation on how life surrounds you in ways you never expected, experiencing the pleasantries of the high and the consequences of the low.

You open your mouth to defend yourself again, feeling pressured to fill the silence your friend refuses to break, but the sound of the sliding door opening has you halting, heart thumping up to your ears as you glance over.

Why is the sight of him making you nervous?

Rafe and Brian emerge from the penthouse, both with drinks in their hand, as they approach the pool chair and close out their conversation. You hear the tail end of it, something pertaining to golf that you don't even bother to try and understand as you take another long sip to silence your racing thoughts.

To your dismay, Rafe sits right next to your hip, propping his arm up on your knee that isn't occupied by Gabriel's elbow, as Brian sits down at the open space at the end of the chair, and you nearly roll your eyes at the sight of dozens of open seats surrounding the deck, but of course they all chose to bombard your space.

So much for having a moment of solace, you think bitterly.

Although, your head is growing fuzzy at how close Rafe suddenly is to you, skin burning at the feeling of his arm casually perched on your knee as if it means nothing yet everything at the same time. He's been aching to touch you, you realize, after going long enough without it.

"How was mini golf?" You tease before you can stop yourself.

Rafe's lip twitches. "Very exciting, Star. You missed out."

All you can do is hum in response, letting yourself stare at him for a little too long before directing your gaze on Gabriel, who still has that stupid expression on his face as he darts his eyes between you and the guy he thought you were shacking up with.

Then, there's a twinkle of amusement in his eye that has your heart skipping a beat.

"Bri," Gabriel instigates, faux pouting so obnoxiously obvious that you roll your eyes. "I don't like this flavor."

Brian, being ever so sweet, frowns. "Oh, I'll get you another-"

"I'll come!" Your friend perks up quickly, standing so fast it almost makes you dizzy, not-so-discreetly grabbing his boyfriend's arm like talons and dragging him towards the sliding doors. "Be back in a bit," he says, shooting you a knowing glance (that you know Rafe one hundred percent sees).

The two disappear into the penthouse and you're left to bask in the silence. Well, the silence except for Ventura and her friends still talking about that one person across the giant rooftop porch. But you've blocked that out a long time ago, so you consider this your version of silence. Although your heart thumps so loud it's pounding in your ears.

Your gaze lingers on the sliding doors longer than it should, almost pleadingly as you half wish your friend will come back out and entertain the silence, to delay the inevitable. The other half of you, though, is desperately curious to discover more about the monumental anecdote that he shared earlier.

When you finally find a shroud of bravery to turn your head, Rafe is already staring at you.

A hundred questions rise yet die in your throat, starting with the most generic one: Why?

Why you? The person who never gave him the time of day or any sort of implication that you'd ever be with someone like him. The person who openly jabs at his character and takes no fault in speaking the truth, no matter how brutal it may be. The person who definitely doesn't emulate the type of partner he typically goes for.

You're really trying to discern if this is some sort of elongated prank, something to make your trip that much more confusing and make you overthink to the max. He set this up, right? He's doing some social experiment to see if you'll crack under the pressure. Because there's just simply no way.

No way he likes you.

Right?

All you can do is stupidly blink at him, the words escaping you on how to even approach the topic in the first place. You're even more confused at his delighted expression, as if he's quite amused in watching you internally battle your conscience, knowing exactly what's racing through your mind right now. You hate how he knows, you hate how he can read you like a book, and you hate how nice it is to be close to him.

You swallow thickly, hyperaware of his arm still perched on you, a touch so searing hot that it nearly goes numb. It didn't feel this way when Gabriel was touching you, why doesn't it feel the same? Even with Polo, why was the sensation so much more different than from when-

"Wanna swim?"

Rafe's words startle you, interrupting your stream of overthinking. You nearly thank him for the thought break, yet furrow your brows at the request.

"Wh-? Swim?" You respond meekly.

He nods slowly, his arm retreating so his palm encapsulates your bent joint. You nearly knee-jerk when you feel his thumb rubbing absentminded shapes on your cool skin.

But the touch leaves as soon as it came before Rafe is retreating away, standing and walking backwards slowly towards the water, almost egging you on with a raised brow and his fingers teasing the hem of his shirt. He doesn't let you dwell on it before he's kicking off his sneakers, slipping off his socks, and pulling his shirt over his head.

When his fingers move to undo his belt, you suck in a particularly harsh breath, watching his pants drop to pool on the deck floor, finally only in his boxers as he makes his way tauntingly towards the stairs. He cheshire-cat grins when he sees your gaze solely fixed on his chest, swelling with pride at your flustered expression and how your eyes stare at his muscles.

He's ankle deep on the stairs. "Well?"

You finally snap out of your trance, blinking. "Isn't it dangerous? To swim while we're...you know."

Your voice lowers at the end but he hears you all the same, chuckling boyishly as he stands waist deep now.

"I won't let you drown, Star." Rafe's grin is impossibly wide. "If that's what you're worried about."

Finding the strength to scoff, you subconsciously kick off your shoes at the notion of a challenge.

"I'm a great swimmer, in fact," you snap. "You'd know that because you've tried to drown me at least a hundred times."

Rafe watches you from the water, bending his knees so he can sink down to his neck with a low whistle at the daunting move. His eyes never leave you. "I'm not that guy anymore, baby. I promise."

"Don't call me that." You're standing and shimmying off your skirt.

"Sorry, baby."

"Rafe," you scold. Your tank is added to the pile of discarded clothes.

"Fine, I yield." A pause. "Cute bra."

Your skin is on fire under his gaze as you're (suddenly?) ankle deep. "If you say one more thing about my bra, I'm going to kill you."

Rafe shamelessly looks you up and down as if he has every right, not even trying to hide it as he even tilts his head to the side for another angle.

"Alright." Another pause. "Cute underwear."

Waist deep. "What'd I just say?"

"What?" He laughs incredulously, throwing his arms up in surrender. "You said no more about the bra. Last I checked, bra and underwear are two separate things."

"They're both undergarments," you argue, standing five feet away from him. "They go hand-in-hand."

Rafe hums, unconvinced.

Suddenly, he's right in front of you, both up to your collar bone in the heated water that feels like a warped hug. The proximity makes you reel, as you hadn't noticed you have been subconsciously walking closer and closer to him throughout your entire (meaningless) conversation until you can smell his cologne and see the beauty marks on his face.

The water makes his eyes bluer then ever, and in your bottom peripheral you see how his hands twitch in your direction, as if he's itching to touch you. You can't say that you blame him because here you are: in your bra and underwear standing two feet away from him, and you can't imagine he'd keep his hands away from any girl that could be in your position.

"You know," he muses low after a moment of tension filled silence, "I think you're the first girl to ever reject me."

The confession makes your heart lurch to your throat, but you mask it with a scoff. "Fuck off."

But it only makes him grin. "Scouts honor."

That makes you cross your arms defensively. "I don't recall you ever being a boy's scout. That feels sacrilegious, somehow."

"Semantics," he waves dismissively. "It's true."

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptic of his anecdote. "How is that possible? Everyone's been rejected before."

Rafe just shrugs. "Not me. I shoot my shot. It works. Boom. Fool-proof tactic." He is so nonchalant about it that it makes you reel.

"Yeah," you deadpan, "that's called pretty privilege."

“Pretty privilege?”

“Textbook. It's the concept of getting anything you want because you're what society deems attractive."

Rafe cocks his head to the side, smirking.

“Star, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were calling me pretty," he says low and teasing.

You roll your eyes so hard he's bound to see the whites of your eyes, pretending not to acknowledge how beautiful he looks in this lighting, how the glassy water reflects a deep blue light over his features, casting an alluring shadow.

Has he always been this handsome?

You push that thought deep, deep, deep down. "That is not what I'm saying at all. I'm saying you're used to getting what you want because you're a six foot something mildly not-so-unfortunately looking person."

The grin on his face makes you want to smack him.

Prick.

You turn your gaze away from him. "Whatever."

Finding your sights on the city scape, you really try to ignore the burning feeling of his eyes boring into your profile as they normally do. But it's intensified, as if he can sense your rapid heartbeat and trembling hands and hear your thoughts. It's almost as if he can see your defense cracking minute by minute the longer you spend time with him, the longer you contemplate his intentions.

"Meant what I said," he adds quietly, "if that counts for anything."

You find the strength to look back at him, only to find his expression indifferent, eyes glossed in something you can only figure are nerves, a look so foreign on his face that it temporarily renders you speechless. You can't remember a time where he's been nervous, unknowing, vulnerable. He is far from teasing, instead staring at you so intently, so ardently, that it knocks the air out of your lungs.

The question comes before you can stop it. "You're serious?"

His nod is immediate, slow and deliberate and not once taking his eyes off of yours.

Your heart pounds. "But you sleep around."

The moment it leaves your mouth, you grimace and curse yourself at the lack of filter, the lack of compassion. The sentence comes out way worse than you intend, and you wince at the insinuation. You instantly recoil and clear your throat in an attempt to correct yourself before he can take offense.

"What I mean," you add quickly, "is, like, you've been suppressing this...feeling? For...me? By being with other people?"

You want to groan at how stupid you sound, at how the words are not wording the way you are trying to...word.

But before you can further embarrass yourself and try to piggyback onto the mess of words, he speaks.

"In a way, yes," Rafe confirms softly yet calculated in a tone so genuine, so serious, it throws you for a loop. "Well, I tried. But learned quickly how difficult it is."

You tilt your head. "Difficult?"

He nods. "Yeah." When you arch a brow at his elusiveness, he adds, "Said your name in bed, once."

Your eyes bulge. What?

"What?"

Rafe shrugs with such eased nonchalance that it makes your head spin. "Wasn't my finest moment."

You try not to dwell on it. You really, really try.

Yet the thought of him in bed has (shamefully) crossed your mind more than once, but more so on the speculation of what kind of lover he is. Is he selfish? Giving? Fast and rough? Slow and deliberate? However, the image of Rafe Cameron fucking someone else and yet only picturing you, saying your name, wishing it was you underneath (or on top? On your side? From behind?) makes you short circuit.

It's as if he knows you're spiraling, because you spend a few moments in deep thought, gathering your brain and picking up the scattered pieces, and he lets you. The silence is tense, for sure, with a thick air settling between you as you truly understand the gravity of his confession, the rawness of his feelings.

He doesn't laugh, or smirk, or tease. He simply waits for you to process.

"Well," you attempt to continue despite the lump in your throat, "you've still been seeing people, yeah?"

He shakes his head and purses his lips.

You reel, blinking stupidly at him as you recount all the times you've seen him locked hip to hip with a new girl at least once a month, sometimes twice. "What about Annalise? Or that ginger from the coffee shop last week?" You could go on and on, as he seemingly meets another notch to the belt every time he leaves the apartment. "Kennedy from your work?"

Another shake of his head, and the simplicity makes you utterly confused.

"No one?"

Rafe says your name most ardently. "I haven't slept with anyone in ten months."

The casual tone in his voice makes you falter as the next question dies in your throat.

What?

Ten months? He hasn't seen anyone in ten months? Because of you?

The timeline startles you. You'd only started living with Sarah a little over a year ago, only meeting him the day you moved in when he helped carry boxes. Is he trying to tell you he's been serious about you, in the most fervor way that he can be, for ten months? Forty three weeks? Three hundred and four days? That long?

"But- But what about all the girls you've met?" You splutter, trying to wrap your brain around the earth-shattering confession. "You've shown interest in them."

"Never slept with any of 'em," he says coolly as if it means nothing. "Sure, served as a nice distraction and all, but no matter how much I tried, it always came back to you."

''Back to me?" You reiterate shyly.

You almost want him to say no, to say sike, because the thought of someone, of him, silently pining over you for that long seems utterly impossible.

But Rafe confirms your worst nightmares by nodding considerably firm, sure of his answers, as if they've never been easier to convey. Meanwhile, it's absolutely shattering your brain.

Stupidly, you can't wrap your head around it.

"You," you start by pointing at him, "have liked me," you point to yourself, "for ten months?"

"Technically eleven," Rafe admits casually as if it doesn't make things worse for your heart. "Thought it was just a little crush. But when it didn't go away, like, at all, I figured I'd hold out."

You blink at him as if he's grown a hundred heads. "Why didn't you say anything?"

The words make him burst out laughing, such a boyishly pleasant sound that it reverberates your skin and makes your stomach do a weird somersault that you can't begin to explain. He even goes as far as tipping his head back to emphasize how ridiculous your simple question is, as if he's the funniest thing you've ever said.

Though you're not laughing. You can't even begin to fathom laughing in a time like this.

"I've only said something everyday since," he muses when he finally finds his breath again. "I was never kidding. Never with you."

You frown, slightly panicked on how you've made this man practically celibate for a year without even knowing.

"How was I supposed to know that?!"

In a daze, your hands come up to cradle your face, brows pinched in worry as you blink at him, still teetering on feeling confused on how he can even fathom liking you and feeling guilty how he's been waiting for you after all this time of you basically verbally berating him for the entirety of it.

Suddenly, he's taking a step closer and lifting his hands out of the water to bring his palms to the back of your hands. Your skin tingles from the water droplets from his hands as he removes them from your face. Instead of dropping them, he laces his fingers through yours and brings them under the water with eased nonchalance that it makes you spiral about how long he's been waiting to do this, to simply touch you.

All you can think about is how close he is, his body nearly a foot away from yours.

"You think I'm kidding?" He teases gently. "Just ask Sarah."

Your eyes widen. "Sarah knows?" Your voice is timid, smaller than you've ever heard yourself before.

Rafe grins. "Everyone knows." A beat. "Everyone but you, apparently."

Gawking at him in disbelief, you watch as he lets out a boyish laugh, and the sound is so endearing that it makes your heart thump out of your ribcage, threatening to leap to your throat. His hands that engulf yours squeeze just a fraction tighter, as if he's relishing in the moment before it vanishes into thin air, before the drug wears off and you're both back to square one.

And he just...stays here.

Rafe waits idly, suddenly the epitome of patience as his eyes gloss over your features, taking in how your face looks from this close and really getting to study the color of your eyes before you get shy enough to turn away.

But you don't.

You hold his gaze, steady and definitely a little breathless at the intensity of it all, putting the pieces together and understanding, truly understanding, the ferocity behind his words. Perhaps you've noticed his feelings before, but you probably shoved them deep, deep, down because it seemed like an impossible thing. Because Rafe seemed so unattainable, because you never thought something like this could be true.

"You don't need to do anything about it," he says gently.

You frown. "Rafe-"

"Just-" He interrupts, sucking in a deep breath. "Just stay like this for a second."

Blinking at him confusedly, you dart your gaze between his pretty eyes to find any sort of tremor or sadness, but all you find is softness that you aren't sure you deserve. He's decidedly content with the time he has with you, even if it's a little too short for his liking.

And yours.

Because suddenly you're moving forward, pressing your lips against his before you can talk yourself out of it.

The immediate pin pricks of electricity that jolt through your body elevate the sensation. You both feel it, the literal spark, that stings your lips at the contact as you can practically visualize the way he taste, hear the way he feels, feel the way he smells. It's intoxicating, unlike something you've ever experienced before, and you have no idea how you've managed life without this, without this rush of adrenaline.

Rafe mmrphs low into your mouth, a noise of surprise, as he's frozen in place for a beat, two, three, before he's kissing you back. His hands leave yours, one skimming your waist gently under the water and the other moving up to your neck, and you nearly shiver at the wetness of his skin against your dryness. It holds your jaw in place, especially when his thumb ghosts your chin, moving up, up, up to tease your bottom lip.

You, unintentionally, let out a quiet sigh that causes him to grip your waist tighter, fingers digging into your skin to pull you impossibly taut to him, chests bumping. At the sudden act, your hands brace on his shoulders, slowly raking your nails from his shoulder blades, to the top of his spine, to splay in his hair that is a tad overgrown on the ends.

Pulling gently at his hair, Rafe groans in your mouth as his hand audaciously skims lower that your waist, shamelessly groping the backs of your thighs to yank you even closer. Under the water, your legs koala wrap around his waist and lock around his back, gasping into his mouth when you feel him pressed up against your leg.

"Oh my fucking god," he rasps against your lips. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Your head is spinning. Your body is floating. Your veins are on fire. All you can think about is Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

"Even better than I imagined, Star."

All you can do is let out a sigh, especially when his hand leaves your neck to settle on your ass, gripping and fondling you in a messy motion against his length, straining painfully against the confinements of his boxers. One particular movement has his cock rubbing against your clit through your underwear, to which you let out a soft moan at the sensation.

Rafe's grip impossibly tightens at the sound. "Fuck." His voice is strained. "We need- Need to... I can't... Not while we're- fuck."

"Take me home?" You manage to mumble against his lips, almost shyly, as you voice what he was trying to say.

"Yes," he says immediately yet reluctant to pull away with his blue eyes trained solely on your lips. "Gotta go home... Need to leave..."

You nearly chuckle at his dazed expression, and you assume he's probably trying to wrap his head around that this is actually happening after ten months of dreaming about it. There's nothing more you'd want than to get a glimpse inside his head in this very moment. You guess that it's either blank or running a mile a minute.

In your peripheral, you can see Gabriel and Brian standing in the kitchen, noses nearly pressed up against the glass sliding doors and shamelessly watching your little pool-escapade.

Fully turning your head to look at your friend, you feel Rafe's lips on your neck, sucking a spot on the underside of your jaw that instinctively makes your back arch into him, all while managing a sly shake of your head and suppressed grin as Gabriel graphically motions a peace sign in between his tongue.

The gesture makes you roll your eyes. (But you hope he's going to be right.)

Rafe's barely stepping through your apartment door before you're fisting the material of his t-shirt and bringing his lips to yours.

The door slams absentmindedly in the back of your mind as his hands are instantly all over you, mapping over the hills and ridges of your body in such an intense manner that you figure he's making up for all the lost time he spent pining over you, dreaming of this, wishing there was even a sliver of a chance of being with you.

Now, you deem his dreams to come true.

Especially with how passionately you kiss him back.

You barely register when you hop up in his arms, legs hooking around his waist and ankles locking at the base of his back. His hands settled firmly on your ass to keep you taut to him, beelining towards your bedroom. Throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight, you nearly snort at the pep in his step, nearly breaking your door with the ferocity at which he punches it open.

The light isn't even flicked on before he's striding towards the bed, knees about to lower to practically throw you on the fresh sheets.

Then you impossibly stiffen, remembering something.

"Wait!"

Rafe stills in his bed, your back inches from the bed as you practically koala cling to him to refrain from touching the comforter. "What?"

The words feel stupid on your tongue, and when you don't answer for a full five seconds, he stands up straight and cranes his neck back to look at you, a gloss of worry coating his features as you stay perched in his arms.

He says your name firmly, an edge to his tone.

You bite your lip, scrunching your face in pain. "We were sitting on a curb."

Furrowing his brows, Rafe slowly nods at your words, unsure of where you're going with this.

"And we went in a pool," you add sheepishly.

"Yes," he drawls out, confused. "We did."

You swallow the embarrassed lump in your throat. "Uhm, I washed my sheets this morning." You blink stupidly. "And the comforter. Like, everything's clean."

Rafe's teasing smirk makes you shrink.

Of course, he doesn't speak so you feel obligated to fill the silence with your usual yapping tendencies.

"I just- Uh- Well, maybe we could, like, I don't know-"

"Could what?" He eggs on lazily, going as far as cocking his head to the side at your babbling.

You groan as he blatantly laughs at you, slapping a backhand on his shoulder. "Shut up. You're actually so insufferable."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"Right, sorry, baby."

Rolling your eyes, you turn your head away from him in an attempt to calm your rapid heartbeat. "I'm gonna kill you. Actually."

Rafe hums, unconvinced. "Wow. You sound pretty serious this time."

"I am serious."

"Well, at least let me shower with you before you kill me, hm?"

The thought makes your heart lurch to your throat, stomach pooling in warmth at the anticipation of the events ahead. Especially with how his blue eyes twinkle in amusement, yet slowly blown dark with lust as if he's thinking the same thing as you, as if he's eager to find out what kind of lover you are, too.

Not trusting your words, you settle for a nod instead, and you nearly pout when his arms gently lower you to the ground, placing an incredibly intimate chaste kiss on your lips before settling his hands on your waist, walking you backwards into the hallway, back bumping into the bathroom door as you both push inside.

Before he can even get the light, you're muscle-memory maneuvering into the bathroom, patting the shower tile to find the faucet and turn on the water.

Your body finds his again, as he turns the light on with lightning speed before his lips are on yours again, kneading and groping the flesh of your ass and pulling your body fully against his, groaning into your mouth at the way you mold into his touch. You arch your back into his body, hands instantly fusing through his hair to tug him closer.

The steam quickly fills the room, clinging to you like an uncomfortable second skin.

But you push the sudden dizziness to the back of your mind, solely focusing on Rafe, Rafe, Rafe as your hands brace on his chest. Your palms slide lower, mapping the hills and ridges of his abdomen and studying the crevices like the topography of a map, edging lower and lower until your fingers dip into the waistband of his pants.

Suddenly, he's wincing against your lips, as if remembering something detrimental.

You pull back, breathless. "What?"

He almost looks pained. "Don't have a condom."

Playfully, you can't help but raise a brow, faux-serious. "You thought you were getting lucky tonight?"

Although, Rafe can't discern your joke from irritation, his blue eyes blinking down at your stupidly, slightly panicked.

"No," he says immediately. Then, "Yes? Is this- Are we going too fast?"

You stifle a laugh, cracking through your resolve. "I'm teasing. Relax."

The steam is a thick fog between you.

Instantly, he lets out a shaky breath. "Don't mess with a guy like that, Star," he muses low.

"Making up for all those times you make me want to kill you."

Rafe rolls his eyes, but the gesture holds no malicious intent given the giant fucking grin on his face, and how his lips gingerly press on your hairline in such a casual way that it makes your head spin. Although you can feel the sweat already starting to bead, the room shifting into a practical sauna at the sudden temperature change. It makes you dizzy.

But truthfully, you can't discern if that's from the steam or the handsome man in front of you.

You can't deny how badly you crave him, how badly you want him. The desire augments especially because you understand how ferociously he wants you, how long he's been thinking about being with you, how he pulls back from your kisses every few minutes to inspect your face so he can internally confirm that this is real, this is happening, he's finally got his chance with you after what felt like an impossible feat.

"John B has them," you say, weary from the heat. "Sarah said in his bedside dresser."

He winces at the mere insinuation of why his roommate has them, more so why his sister's boyfriend has them. "Ew, don't-"

"Rafe," you scold, "I'm telling you where they are."

He shudders at the thought. "Oh." Then widen, blinking stupidly in realization. "Oh. Okay. Yeah. Okay, you stay pretty in here, I'll be right back, yeah?"

You nearly whine when his hands leave yours, relishing in another one of his chaste forehead kisses before he's swinging the door open. A wave of heat makes you lightheaded.

"Don't be long," you say before you can stop it.

Rafe grins boyishly. "I'm grabbing a hundred, by the way."

You roll your eyes, waving him away as he spares no second following your command, disappearing into the hallway with his loud footsteps gradually getting quieter.

"I'm getting in!" You call after him, hearing a vague noise of affirmation as you quickly begin to strip. "Snooze you lose!"

The front door is slamming shut as you step into the - obscenely - hot water, nearly oppressive as the steam engulfs the bathroom.

It's thick as smoke, the heat nearly choking you as it crawls uncomfortably in your throat, latches onto your skin like a too-heavy weighted blanket. The hot water pulses down onto your body as a million pin pricks, searing into your pores and making your legs wobble at the ferocity of it. You brace your arm on the wall, attempting to blink the dizziness away.

"Fuck," you mumble low and to yourself, overcome with nausea as your vision slowly tunnels.

Your movements become sluggish, eyesight blotting and ears slowly starting to ring under the ferocity of your queasiness. What the fuck is happening? You're dying. You surely must be. Right?

Clutching your wall mounted shelf to hold some semblance for your balance, you stumble forward to fidget with the faucet temperature, frowning when the water won't cool fast enough, won't stop feeling like a horrible tidal wave of steam is washing over you, drowning you, entering your skin and expanding and threatening to explode.

It's too hot. It's too fucking hot. You're fading. Fast.

You call out to Rafe. At least you think you call out to him, pawing at the slippery tile of the wall to keep trying to brace your own balance as your senses seem to immediately dull: your ears ring to the point of no return to silence, your eyesight blurs out of focus, your body overheats in a matter of an instant and your chest constricts tight, so tightly that it feels like a giant hand is reaching into your ribcage and squeeeeeezing.

White spots blur your vision, mumbling what you think is a curse before you're out like a light.

notes this genuinely has no plotline?

401 notes · View notes

smutoperator · 1 year ago

Text

I Love Her Smile

Kim Jiwon (Jeewon) x Male Reader

Tags: ass eating, belly bulging, big tits worship, bikini, bouncy boobs, creampie, cup, cute smile, deepthroating, (lots of) facefucking, motorboating, pile driver, queefing, riding, titfucking, spit, vibrator

Word count: 3739

After filming the music video for Cignature's latest comeback, Jeewon seemed tired. Being the milking cow of a small company while carrying such a heavy load can be quite burdensome. But even after such an exausting routine, she managed to always smile.

You met Jeewon after the filming, asking her about how she felt. "I'm good, but a little tired; how about you?" she asked. "I'm fine; better now with you. I love your smile, Jeewon," you replied.

"I wasn't born yesterday; I know what you mean by that," Jeewon said. "Well, you're such a tease I had to notice," you said back. "Indeed, I live off that," she continued.

"Then stand up and show me what you mean by that," you told her. Jeewon understood the assignment, shaking her body left and right and making her beautiful milkers swing. "Perfect, they are so beautiful," you told her. Indeed, Jeewon's massive tits never ceased to amaze you, no matter how often you had seen them. That outfit they gave her for the video made Jeewon look sexier than ever, and you were enjoying it to the fullest.

"Shake them harder, tease me," you ordered to Jeewon, who obliged. Her small bra could barely hold her fully natural 34 double-D cup tits in place, and that got truer with all her shaking. Jeewon felt her nipples start to slip and tried to cover them as an instant reaction, but it was futile.

Jeewon laughed and bounced her boobs up and down. Her bra wasn't enough to hold them in place for long, with her right tits popping up first. She kept shaking them until they were on full display. "Good girl, that's what I'm talking about," you told her.

"That was fun," Jeewon smirked at you. "Keep teasing me; put your bra back and flash them," you told her, who does that before letting them fully free. "I could do this all day for you," she said. "But weren't you tired?" you asked her. "Yeah, but I love the attention you give to my tits," she said.

"Well, you're such a cute, sexy girl, Jeewon. I'll give you all the attention; better if you take those jeans off," you tell her. "Sure," she says, pulling her pants down and showing the lower part of her bikini. "It's all for you; we didn't film it in the music video because it hardly covers anything," she said.

"If it barely covers anything, you should just pull them to the side," you told Jeewon, who quickly followed, spreading her ass cheeks for you to see her holes. "We're just getting started," she said. "Indeed we are; take those panties off next," you ordered. "Hmmm nice, your ass is winking already; I can't wait to put my tongue in there," you told her.

"You're such a naughty boy," Jeewon told you. "Yes, I am," you said back. "You told me you were tired; you should sit on this chair and let me please you," you continued. "Of course," she said.

Jeewon sat on the char as you started massaging her bare boobs, then kissed them and licked her nipples. Alternating between the boobs, your tongue perfectly worshipped them. "Shake them into my face," you asked. Jeewon grabbed her udders close together, and you started motorboating her, much to her enjoyment.

"Lube your tiddies," you told Jeewon, giving her a bottle to pour the liquid all over it. "Shake them for me, my baby," you said. Her lubed tits made for a much easier massage, as you quickly took advantage and easily slid your hands back into Jeewon's udders, clapping them against each other and enjoying the sound.

"Everything is better with lube," Jeewon says. "You know what's better? Your tits shaking in my face," you replied, starting another round of motorboating, this time with Jeewon going much faster. After she was done, you groped one of her tits while sucking the other like a needy baby.

"You like that, don't you?" you asked her. "Yes, I love it," Jeewon said, showing you her big, btight smile. "Shake them harder in my face," you told her. Jeewon amplified the intensity as your head was hit left and right by her huge milkers, and you loved it. So did Jeewon, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Hmmm, how much of those tiddies can I fit in my mouth?" you asked her, bringing them together and getting your face buried deep in her udders. "They can barely fit, I see," Jeewon laughed. Sometimes she tried to hide, but there was truly no point; her boobs are huge, and she loves getting them worshipped. "Your mouth is so good in my tiddies," Jeewon said as you kept kissing and grabbing them, even slapping yourself with them.

"Let me spin it around and show where else my mouth can be good," you told her, spinning the chair hard to get Jeewon's ass in front of your face. You were so excited you ended up missing the mark and almost making her fall off. "Wow, you really want it," she said. "Yes, I do; put your ass close to my face," you replied.

"For all the talk about your tiddies, you sure got a nice ass too, Jeewon. Can you make your butt wink for me?" you asked, making her laugh. "How does a butt wink?" she asked. "Well, whatever, as long as you're ready for my tongue," you said, diving it into Jeewon's butthole with fast stabbings inside her pink anus.

Jeewon started moaning and grabbed your head to push it deeper into her ass. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, you tongue it so good," she said. "Lean forward and let me spit on it," you said, sniffing and eating her tiny butthole. "So, do you like my tongue in your ass?" you asked. "I love it," she said.

A few more minutes of eating ass and Jeewon moaning ensued as you tongue-fucked her. "You taste so good," you told her, following with spinning sessions with the chair where your mouth went from her anus straight to her big tits and then back to her asshole. "Which one do you like better, how I grab your tits or how I eat your ass?" you asked. "Can't decide; both are so good," she said back.

You went back to her tits for a bit, pinching her nipples and slapping them against each other. "I just love that sound, making a milkshake with them," you said. "Now let me get back in that ass," you said, getting your tonguing more intense and Jeewon's moans louder. "Oh my God," she said as you were committed not to spare a single inch of her anus without cleaning.

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, you eat my ass so good," Jeewon says, with lots of moans in between. "Then hold my head and push it against it," you replied. Jeewon shaken her ass with your face making noise between her cheeks, mimicking the motorboating you gave to her tits moments ago.

"Yeah, that's perfect, ahhhh," Jeewon enjoyed every second of your tongue in her ass. "You look amazing; it seems like you're ready to suck some cock," you told her. "I'd love to," she replied.

Jeewon unzips your trousers and gets shocked by your hard cock already popping out. "So big," she says, measuring it against the bottle of lube you gave her and finding out it's got the same length. Jeewon starts sucking it using no hands and getting very sloppy from the start. "Spit all over my cock," you tell her.

It doesn't take long before you grab her head and start pushing your shaft deeper into her throat, making Jeewon almost choke on it, spitting more saliva once she gags. She quickly recovers and starts blowing it off again, making a lot of noise.

"Are you ready to get facefucked?" you ask her. Jeewon nods positively. "Then come here," you say, grabbing her head and pounding her sloppy throat a few times as a test. "I love all that spit dripping from your face," you say, as Jeewon uses it to lube your shaft and suck it deeper, her udders bouncing hard as you fuck her face.

"Drool on it, baby," you tell as you can't stop fucking Jeewon's cute face, hitting the depth of her throat until she coughs again. Her face is already full of saliva, as you let her jerk your dick as well. "You're such a good cocksucker, aren't you?" you praise her blowjob skills.

"God, I love how much spit is falling into your chest," you tell her as you don't stop fucking her face, taking it balls deep as a string of saliva forms from Jeewon's chin up to her tits. "Shake those tits if you want to suck my cock," you tell Jeeewon, who moves them left and right after. "Perfect, just like that," you tell her.

Jeewon savors your meat to the fullest as you treat her throat like her second pussy. "Get it all the way down your throat," you tell her, but she struggles with your massive length, quickly gagging after a few tries. "I can't; it's just so fucking big.".

"Open your mouth wide," you tell Jeewon as you keep sticking your cock in it and enjoy the bulging under her cheek, giving it a couple strikes. "Holy shit, my boobs are full of saliva," she says as she shakes them, and you start the hardest round of facefucking on her. The only thing better than a smile in her face was your cock stuffing it.

"Play with your pussy while you suck my cock," you order to Jeewon, handing her one of those gigantic magic wand vibrators, which she turns on and places between her legs. Your facefucking is so sloppy; she's got saliva running all the way down her belly now, and the louder the vibrator gets, the harder you fuck her face.

Jeewon starts to moan louder as her pussy gets massaged; between it and your thrusts in her mouth, she can barely hold the vibrator as her legs get weaker. "Good girl making that big cock wet enough to hop on it," you praise her. "Yes, I'm ready to ride this," she says.

"Not yet," you tell Jeewon as she gags on your cock. "Slap those tits against my cock," you order as Jeewon brings them up together and starts hitting your pole from both sides. "Perfect, now let me spank your tiddies," you say, slapping your hard shaft against her milkers as she once again gives you that big smile you love so much.

"Squeeze that cock," you ask Jeewon, who presses your shaft between her big tits. It's so girthy she can barely squeeze them together. After such a long time, finally a cock worthy of her massive boobage. You push it up and down her tits, like a sausage making its way between a pair of hot dog buns.

You don't hold back, giving Jeewon the hard titfucking her massive udders deserve. "Open your mouth, lick that cock while I destroy those big tits," you tell her. Jeewon loves it, licking your tip like a maniac every time it emerges out of her milkers. "Keep your mouth open," you say, thrusting so hard that instead you actually end up missing it multiple times.

You lay down and let Jeewon be in control. As she squeezes your cock so hard, only your tip now pops out of her tits. "Oh yeah, that's so good," you tell her. "My tits are so soft and wet; look how easily they slide between your cock," she says.

However, it doesn't take long for your primal instincts to take over. "Let me tittyfuck you, bitch," you say as you start thrusting up Jeewon's huge melons in full speed. Her big heart now forms a heart-shaped (or pussy-shaped, a few would say) hole that your cock passes through. Jeewon keeps it well lubed with some spits, as you slide between her boobs fairly easily.

You take a little break and let Jeewon bounce those boobs up and down your dick like a maniac, with a few cocksuckings in between. Jeewon then stops and starts deepthroating your cock. "Do it; get it as wet as you can for your pussy," you tell her. Jeewon does just as you ask, coating your cock full of spit for a couple minutes. "Don't use your hands, just bob your head all the way down my balls," you tell her. Jeewon goes deeper and deeper until she finally gags.

"Are you ready to ride me now?" you ask Jeewon. "YESSSSS!" she enthusiastically says, her big smile back on her face. Jeewon doesn't take long to sit on your pole. "Ohhhhh," you groan as her tight pussy squeezes your walls. Jeewon herself is impressive, as she takes your full length. "Oh my God, Oh My God, fuck," she says as soon as she starts bouncing on it.

Jeewon quickly turns into a mess; your wet cock easily slides up and down her pussy, and her boobs are now jiggling nonstop. "God damn it, you're so fucking big," she says, but never stopping the ride.

"Choke me, yessss, ahhhhhh," Jeewon moans as you make it harder on her. Your hips clap hard against her butt every time she descends down it. You give her a little test as you push your cock up while choking her, making her laugh full of joy as she quickly regains control of the ride.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking deep inside me," Jeewon says as she can't stop moaning. You now grope her big tits, much to her enjoyment. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," she rapidily screams. "Lean forward a bit," you order to her, taking her massive udders in your mouth while she bounces on your dick.

Jeewon's pussy quickly starts tightening the longer she goes with her ride. You grab her waist and push her body down your hips. "AHHHH FUCKKKK, YESSSS," she screams, closing her eyes as she gets completely impaled and her boobs bounce freely.

More and more moans come out of Jeewson's mouth as she quickly gets exausted, using all her mouth to ride your cock with hard and fast bounces. Her udders are a spectacle to watch as they turn into wild pinballs that move directionless. "AHHHHH, Fuck my little pussy," Jeewon begs, slowly getting out of breath the longer you impale her pussy.

"Get on your feet and keep bouncing on that dick," you command. Jeewon pushes harder, her pussy getting stretched out to the fullest, her ass clapping hard against your body. You finally decide to give her a break: "Come here to suck my cock," you tell her, kneeling as Jeewon bends over and gets that meat in her mouth as soon as you give her the command.

"Don't cover your tits; let me see them bounce," you tell her as Jeewon bobs her head on your cock. Like an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object, you meet her head bobbing with more thrusts down her throat, doing as much as you can to make her boobs bounce.

"Ready to put it back in your pussy?" you ask her. "Yes, always ready," she says. "But first, you need to get a little sloppier; let me make those tits shake," you continue, fucking her face once again as you entertain herself with all the movement her milkers make while you do so.

Jeewon can't hide how tired she looks at this point, panting multiple times as she gags on your cock. But she's still hungry for cock, spitting all over it and throating it as deep as she can as you destroy her tiny, slutty mouth.

"Now you're ready," you tell her. Jeewon brings the lube bottle back and gets her boobs wet again. "Shake it," you command, as the lube falls down into your crotch and Jeewon rubs it on your shaft before sitting on it again, this time in reverse cowgirl.

Jeewon doesn't hold back, riding your cock as hard as she can. Her boobs are an even bouncier mess now. And she's an even bigger mess of moans. "AHHHH, YES, FUCK, OH MY GOD," she screams as you just passively watch, Jeewon planting her hands against the couch as a support while she bounces on your prick.

"OH FUCK THAT'S DEEP," Jeewon says as she ends up sliding your cock inside her cunt all the way down to your balls. You take advantage of this moment of weakness from her and thrust upwards. "AHHHHHH, YESSSS," she screams as her tits almost fly out of her body.

"FUCK THAT'S SO DEEP IN MY STOMACH, YES, YES, YES," Jeewon screams as your cock strikes her mercilessly balls deep, losing her breath as you hit her cervix. Her body is fully sweaty as she just lies on top of you and sits with your cock deep inside her, massaging your balls while she tries to recover from the quick but extremely hard pounding you just gave her.

Jeewon tries to ride a couple times but can barely last a minute. "FUCK YES, YES, YES," she says. "I need this cock so bad, but I'm so fucking tired," she says. "Then suck my dick," you tell her as she takes it deep in her throat like a hungry demon, but you do to her face just as you did to her pussy, pouding it from down low while Jeewon struggles with her throat getting filled full of cock at a franctic pace.

"Are you ready to get fucked lying on your back?" you ask Jeewon. "Yes, please, do it; I've never done this position before," Jeewon says with a huge smile on her face, her legs pressed against her big boobs. "Ready for this big cock to take you on a piledriver?" you keep asking. "Yesss, I'm so excited," Jeewon answers.

You rub and slap your cock against Jeewon's entrance, adding a little lube around her lower side. Jeewon's pussy starts queefing as soon as you penetrate it. You love the noise coming out of her cunt as you fuck her. "Hmmm, look at this tight pussy squirting all that lube," you say. "That's so hot," you say.

Jeewon grabs her boobs, jiggling them with her hands, and her moans are very out of breath now. You play with her pussy going in and out of it and enjoying the queefing sounds. You slowly pick up the pace, bulging your massive cock under her belly. "Fuck this little pussy, YESSSS, FUCKKK," Jeewon screams in between lots of moans.

"Look at that big cock under my stomach," Jeewon notices your bulging dick, massaging her belly in the area around it. You hit her pussy straight and deep, staying with your shaft buried all the way down her cunt. "Let's see it, let's see it," you enjoy your cock stabbing her insides as Jeewon runs her hands around the bulge under her tummy. "Poke me right there, please," she demands.

"AHHHHHH, OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Jeewon screams as you hit deep in her cervix; she is exhausted now and just enjoys you taking her pussy all the way in. A few liquids come out of her vagina, and you love it. "Oh God, are you squirting?" you ask her. "YESSSS," she screams as your cock dives into a pudddle of juices that get trapped between your shaft and gravity, pushing it back down inside Jeewon's fuckhole.

Jeewon laughs as you finger her little pussy. "Come here, baby, taste that cock full of squirt," you tell her. Jeewon gets up immediately, diving to suck your dick and lick your shaft from top to bottom, enjoying the taste of herself. "Dirty girl," you say to her as she chokes on your cock and bounces her tit with her franctic head-bobbing, smiling like the good whore she is.

As Jeewon finishes gagging on your cock, a coat of saliva fills it from top to bottom. She still has the strength for one final round, slapping her own ass as you look at her baby-making body. Jeewon puts her right leg up and gets herself into an acrobatic position on the couch for one last fucking. You slide your cock deep into her pussy from the beginning, making her moan softly.

You pound Jeewon fast and hard, making sure her boobs bounce as much as possible. At this point, Jeewon can barely feel her legs, just letting herself become a little cocksleeve for your monster cock. "Oh yes, oh yes," she moans as your balls clap against her clit and her boobs hit her chin. "That feels so fucking amazing," she says as your cock relentlessly attacks her cunt.

"OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Jeewon says as you pound her balls deep. Her tits become massive bouncy pinballs at each thrust you give her; her clit stretches out like an opening mouth, and speaking of mouths, she opens her as far as she can to moan every time your cock fills her insides.

"CUM FOR ME, YES, CUM IN MY LITTLE PUSSY, PLEASE," Jeewon begs. Soon, you leave your signature inside it, coating her walls full of your white ink just as she wanted to. "Push it out," you tell her, spreading her pussy lips and bringing a cup where your cum lands after flowing out of her pussy.

Jeewon pushes the cum out of her pussy like a cow getting milked out of her tits. "Drop on your knees and pour it all over your big tits for me," you demand as Jeewon picks the cup up and fills her milkers full of your milk, licking her own nipples to taste your cum right out of her boobs as she gives you one final big smile.

"That was a lot of fun," Jeewon says. "So you had a lot of fun, you little slut; what was your favorite part?" you ask her. "Probably the piledriver loved watching your cock poking me from the inside," she said. "That's great; I hope I get to have more fun with you," you tell her. "Me too; that would be awesome," Jeewon replied.

"Last thing, I really love your smile," you say to Jeewon.

"And my big tits and little pussy too," Jeewon says, shaking her tiddies for one last time.

"Needless to say I love them."

#jeewon smut #cignature smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

1K notes · View notes